


I'll Take Care of You

by Sauric



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Cancer, Cancer treatment, Chemotherapy, Eventual Happy Ending, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Hidden Relationship, Home care, Illnesses, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Medical Emergency, Pining, Sick Dean Winchester, implied surgery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 16:02:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7624963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauric/pseuds/Sauric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak have been friends since they were freshman in high school, when Dean took an immediate liking to the new kid and took him under his wing to protect him from bullies. They made a pact--no matter what, they would be there for each other. Years later, it's still true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to have medically and anatomically correct terminology as much as possible. If that bothers you, this is not the fic for you.
> 
> This fic is updated roughly once a month.

Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak had been friends since they were freshman in high school, when Dean took an immediate liking to the new kid and took him under his wing to protect him from bullies. They made a pact--no matter what, they would be there for each other. Years later, it was still true.

Dean had been there for Castiel through high school and college. Dean was his best man when he married Meg Masters. He was there the day Castiel found out Meg had cheated on him, and Dean was there the day Castiel divorced her. Dean was there when Castiel graduated from medical school and was hired at the city hospital.

Castiel had been there for Dean, too, cheering him on through his mechanical engineering degree, taking him out to celebrate when he opened his own auto shop. He was there when Dean married Anna, he was there was their son, Jude was born. He was there the day Anna died of breast cancer, unexpected and devastating. He was there the day she was buried.

Even now, they only lived not even a half hour apart, Castiel in a small apartment in Boston and Dean in a lovely home in Arlington , right down the street from Harvard and MIT, right over the line from Cambridge. He had previously lived a little further away, in Woburn, but that had been the home he'd bought with Anna and he'd sold it after her death, moving his life and his son closer to his best friend.

Not that Castiel minded in the least. That was four years ago and Jude, now six, happily called him "Uncle Cas" and loved to tell him all about preschool, where he was during the day while Dean worked at his garage.

Despite their respective losses--Dean being widowed and Castiel being divorced--the two friends were closer than ever. They told each other anything and everything, and from time to time, it included gross things. Sometimes, it was just Dean trying to see if he could possibly gross Castiel out (apparently amputations, broken teeth, and ruptured eyes did that), but sometimes it was a serious question--"Jude has a round itchy rash on his feet, is it just an insect bite?" or "Jude didn't poop this week, should I be concerned?" or the occasional question about himself, "I've got a blistered burn from a soldering iron, but I think it might be infected. What do you think?"

So when Dean and Castiel were out at a Greek restaurant on Main Street one night (what? they had awesome food), Castiel was not all that perturbed when Dean said, "Hey, man. So, I've got kind of an awkward medical question."

Castiel smiled fondly, shaking his head at Dean. "You ask me about your son's bowel movements, Dean. Whatever it is, it probably won't bother me."

Dean shrugged, picking at label of his beer before he finally sighed and spoke up. "I've...been having unusual pain in my groin lately."

Castiel snorted and grinned. "Maybe if you didn't jerk off so much, Dean, you wouldn't have friction burns!"

But Dean didn't laugh. He just kept picking at the label of his bottle.

"Dean?"

"It's--I--there's a lump. On my, uh...on my nuts," he finally managed, strained.

"So you want me to take a look? Is this some bizarre idea of a pick-up line, Dean?" Castiel eyed him warily, trying to suss out if this was some sort of joke. But Dean's eyes shot up to his, wide and slightly afraid.

"No, man! Geez, no! No, I mean...there's...there really is...and it hurts..."

Castiel took pity on him finally with a thin smile. "Okay, okay, I believe you. So?"

"So what could it be?"

"Possibly swelling, maybe from an infection or an abscess. Or a cyst," Castiel replied.

Dean looked doubtful. "So...not cancer?" 

Castiel winced. "Dean, you shouldn't assume the worst. It's possible. You're the right demographics, but there are other things it could be, even just a plain tumor."

"But what if it is cancer?" Dean's beer label was flaking off into a pile on the table.

"Then we'll face that hurdle when it comes. Just like we've faced every other hurdle that life's thrown our way--together."

That pulled a smile from Dean, and he nodded. "Yeah, together. Thanks man."

"So, you're going to your doctor soon, right?" Castiel asked, nudging Dean's shoulder, and Dean looked up at him, grinning and nodding.

"Tomorrow. I'll let you know right away so you can tease me and tell me that you told me so, deal?"

"Deal."

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Dean sat in the doctor's office, waiting for his doctor to come in as he peered around boredly at posters of human anatomy and advertising the medical group. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to pull the paper and plastic-lined gown down a little further to cover his junk, wincing because it was cold, even through the paper liner on the table. For the fourth time, he read the sign telling patients they could ask for an advocate, and then the one next to it urging patients to ask the doctor if they'd washed their hands, when his doctor, Dr. Garth Fitzgerald, finally entered the room with a smile.

"So," he said, glancing down at Dean's medical file, "Mr. Winchester. The nurse tells me you're here because of a lump in your right testicle, am I correct?"

Dean flushed at the doctor's unabashed use of proper anatomical terms. He _never_ used words like that around Jude! "Uh, yeah. Noticed it about a week ago? 'cause it was sore, and stuff."

"Alright then." Dr. Fitzgerald of course washed his hands before snapping on a pair of gloves. "Let's take a look."

Dean drew his knees up and tugged the gown down, eyes wide as he squeaked out a surprised, "What??" but the doctor smiled indulgently.

"Mr. Winchester, yours will not be the first I've ever seen, and they will not be the last. I've seen far worse and far more embarrassing things. I have to see to be able to decide what to do about it."

Dean slowly eased out of his curled-up position, swallowing hard and shutting his eyes as he laid back on the table.

"Alright, I'm going to lift the gown now," Dr. Fitzgerald said, narrating exactly what he was doing. "I'm going to do an ultrasound of the testicle, so the gel is going to be a little cold."

Even with the warning, Dean still jumped in surprise when warm vinyl-covered fingers tucked his penis out of the way and gently squeezed a blob of slick gel on the skin of his scrotum. "Wh-why an ultrasound?"

He could see Dr. Fitzgerald smile over the edge of the lifted gown. "Normally I would palpate a lump to determine if it was solid or filled with fluid, but I highly doubt you want me squeezing that."

Dean shuddered, barking out a "Hell no!" that Dr. Fitzgerald laughed at. Dean bit at his lower lip, falling silent as the doctor pressed the transducer against his skin and waited. When the doctor tucked his gown back down, a frown was plastered on his face.

"Doc?"

"It's not a cyst or a vein. Mr. Winchester, I'd like to order some blood work, if you don't mind." Dr. Fitzgerald handed him a wad of paper towels. "Go ahead and get cleaned up and dressed and I'll be back with your paperwork."

Dean felt a little numb, barely holding onto the towels shoved into his hand, his mind rebooting only slightly as the doctor stepped out. Dean swiped at the gel, cleaning before dumping the offending paper gown in the garbage, tugging his boxers, and then his jeans back up. He shoved his feet into his boots and was lacing them back up when Dr. Fitzgerald stepped back into the room.

"This is the order for your blood work. The lab is on the first floor, so have it done on your way out, please. I will call you the moment I have the results and we can discuss what to do from there."

Dean nodded dazedly, stumbling out of the exam room and down to the lab. He sat through the wait silently, and when he was called back, he just shut his eyes when the phlebotomist went to work, ignoring the prick of the needle as well as he could.

It wasn't until he was on his way to pick up Jude that he remembered he promised to call Castiel.

No. No, he couldn't do that. He didn't think he could keep from panicking right now. So he opted for texting while he waited in the parking lot at Jude's school.

**Dean (10:41 am): Doctor said it's not a cyst. Ordered some blood work. I hate needles!**

**Castiel (10:43 am): Don't we all. There are other things it could be, Dean. Don't worry.**

**Dean (10:44 am): You're a doctor! Don't you love sticking people?**

**Castiel (10:46 am): Other people! :) I don't like getting stuck. Call me if you need me, Dean.**

**Castiel (10:49 am): Day or night.**

Dean couldn't help but smile.

**Dean (10:51 am): Thanks, Cas. I owe you.**

**Castiel (10:53 am): No you don't. We promised.**

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Not even two days later, on a weekend of all things, Dean's phone rang, Dr. Fitzgerald's name flashing on the screen. Dean frowned, expecting a nurse when he picked up, but he was startled when the doctor himself was on the line.

"Dean, I have bad news..."

After a brief phone conversation, Dean made another emergency appointment to see Dr. Fitzgerald as soon as possible. There were important things to discuss. But for now....for now he needed something else.

He needed...

He picked up his phone, dialing his best friend, and Castiel picked up on the second ring, even though it was ten o'clock at night.

"Hello, Dean."

"Hi, Cas. The doctor called," Dean choked out, startled to find his cheeks wet when he swiped at his face.

"Dean? Where are you?" Castiel sounded worried. 

"Home."

"Do you need me?"

"I...yeah. I need you, but Jude's in bed and I dunno if I can get a sitter at this hour, Cas," Dean said.

"I'm coming," Castiel responded firmly. "Do I still have clothes there?"

"Yeah," Dean choked out. "Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?" There was rustling, and Dean assumed Castiel was grabbing a few things. 

"Thanks."

Twenty-five minutes later, Castiel strode into Dean's foyer, having let himself in with his key, to find Dean sitting at the small kitchen table, drinking coffee and eyes red and puffy. Dean climbed to his feet, staring at Castiel for a moment, swaying tiredly, and then Castiel was in front of him, wrapping Dean tightly in his arms. With a sob, Dean clung back, clutching at the back of Castiel's ugly tan trench coat. 

"It's...this is the first time I ever wanted it to be you to say 'I told you so', Cas..." Dean forced out.

"Dean...you have no idea how much I wish for that, too," Castiel responded softly, rubbing Dean's back as he swayed gently with him.

"What am I gonna do? I can't bug Sam. He lives on the other side of the country, he's got a new job and a new wife who also has a new job...I don't have family here."

"You have friends, Dean. You have me." Castiel tried to soothe him.

Dean laughed, but the sound was joyless. "It's not just me now, Cas. I've got a kid, too. I can't ask you to do that."

Castiel shook his head, refusing Dean's protest. "Dean, you know I love Jude. It will be different, but I can manage. Besides, I promised, Dean. I promised you, and I'm going to follow that promise. I'll take care of you."


	2. Chapter 2

Although Dean's guest room was already practically Castiel's room (given his collection of clothing stored in the spare closet and dresser), that night found both of them wide awake and side-by-side in Dean's king-sized bed, staring at the tv as Die Hard played, unnoticed. 

Dean remembered going through this with Anna, but the truth was, things were a lot different when you were the sick one. He expected to feel that same sense of devastation he'd felt over his wife's illness, for she was the mother of his child and he had, in his own way, loved her very much. But the truth was, at the moment, he felt numb, even as his best friend curled closer to him and rested his head against Dean's shoulder.

"Now what?" Dean asked hoarsely as the sun began to rise, Die Hard returning to its menu and playing on repeat.

Castiel glanced at the clock. "I'll get Jude ready and take him to school. If you don't feel like tackling breakfast, I can pick up something from McDonald's on the way back."

"Cas, you don't have to--" Dean started, only to be interrupted.

"Dean, think about it. Jude is going to have to get used to it. Might as well start now."

Dean huffed, hunching down under the blankets as Castiel slipped out from under the covers on the other side of the bed, padding down the hall to where Dean's son lay sleeping in his room. The boy was six and in the first grade, friendly, if not a little precocious, with dark waves of hair, freckles, and green eyes. And currently, he was sprawled out on his batmobile toddler bed, batarang sheets and batty blankets twisted around his legs, one leg of his superman sweats hiked up and his sweatshirt shoved halfway up his soft belly as it rose and fell with each breath.

Castiel knelt by the bed, brushing Jude's hair from his forehead, and the boy drew in a soft breath as he woke, yawning and stretching as he peeked through long, dark lashes before he sat up with a grin, throwing his arms around Castiel's neck. "Unca' Cas!" he cried excitedly.

Castiel chuckled softly, hugging the boy in return while shushing him. "Gotta be quiet, kiddo. Your daddy isn't feeling too good, so I'm going to take you to school today, okay?"

Jude frowned, but he nodded. "Does his tummy hurt? Or does he have a cold? We could make him soup!"

Castiel shook his head fondly. "I don't think soup is going to fix this kind of sick, sport. We'll figure it out later."

Jude climbed out of bed, and with help, he made his bed and changed his clothes, picking up his prized Batman bear from the floor and tucking it up against his freshly fluffed pillows. Castiel sent him to the bathroom to wash up while he went downstairs, pouring the child a bowl of his favorite cereal--Captain Crunch--and cutting up a banana on a plate with some grapes. A glass of milk and orange juice joined the breakfast as Jude skidded into the kitchen with his backpack on his shoulder, shoes shoved on his feet but laces loose and flying.

"Uh-uh, wait a minute!" Castiel said, grinning as he swept Jude up into the air, the boy squealing in delight. "Let's tie those shoes. Remember? Cross the laces, then make two bunny ears, and cross again?" He set the boy back on his feet.

Jude patiently showed Castiel that he remembered, and then he scrambled up into his chair, excited for his breakfast. 

Castiel cleaned up the kitchen a bit, pouring a cup of coffee from the automated machine and topping it off with cream and sugar before he dutifully carried the mug upstairs to Dean's room and set it on the nightstand. "I brought up coffee for now. What do you want for breakfast?" he asked, poking the mass of blankets that Dean had childishly buried himself under. He didn't respond. "Hiding isn't going to make this go away, Dean."

Dean finally grunted and poked his head out. "Big breakfast platter with hot cakes and a hash brown. Orange juice, jelly, butter, syrup, ketchup for the eggs. I might as well enjoy the last few meals I get before I start on sicko central."

Castiel frowned but nodded. "Jude's going to want to say goodbye before I take him to school."

Dean sighed, smearing a hand over his face. "I know."

"I just told him you weren't feeling very good right now."

Dean made a noncommittal noise in response, staring at the mug of coffee as if he could levitate it into his hands. Castiel finally rolled his eyes and sighed, passing the mug directly to him.

"What are you planning on telling him, Dean?" Castiel finally asked.

Dean shrugged. "He's six. He's not going to understand cancer, Cas."

"No, but he understands what it's like to have an upset stomach or a headache."

Dean practically shoved his nose into his coffee cup, inhaling the aroma. "I'm not sure, man. I don't know how to tell my kid I could die."

Castiel's frown seemed to be permanently etched on his face. "While I know any cancer diagnosis is serious, Dean, it's a classic seminoma. Slow growing, the most common kind. There's only a small chance of dying from it, especially at stage 2. The survival rate is 96%."

"You're an ER doctor, Cas. How do you know this?" Dean stared up at his best friend over the steam curling from his mug.

Castiel shrugged. "Internet. Colleagues. We both need to be informed, and as far as I'm concerned, my friend, I don't see a reason for you to lose hope so soon. They'll do surgery and remove the affected lymph nodes and testicle--"

"Wait, what??" Dean blanched, nearly spilling hot coffee down his arm, and Castiel snatched the mug back from him, setting it on the nightstand again. "Can't they just...just, you know, remove the tumor??"

Castiel shook his head. "Unfortunately, since the testicle is so small and fragile, it would be nearly impossible without damaging the tumor itself, and that is the last thing you want to happen with cancer. It can make it spread more. It's a small sacrifice in comparison for your life, Dean. And if you ever remarry, you'll have a story to tell to explain those scars."

Dean's answering smile was tense and wan. "No one's ever going to want to marry me, man. This is...you don't understand. I'm probably going to have to sell the garage to afford this. My insurance doesn't cover much....it's probably going to bankrupt me." With a sad sigh, he looked around the bedroom. "Probably I'll have to sell the house, too."

Castiel shook his head. "Don't think like that, Dean. We'll figure it out. We always do. Drink your coffee, I'm going to check on Jude and have him brush his teeth once he's finished eating."

Dean nodded mutely, looking around and returning to mentally cataloging the value of his possessions. God, it would kill him to have to sell his car, but his crappy insurance only covered 20% until he reached his deductible, and it was a huge one. There was no way.

Castiel returned downstairs to find Jude drinking the last of his juice, and he dropped a chewable vitamin into the boy's hand before they put his dishes in the dishwasher. After Castiel herded him back into the bathroom to brush his teeth, Jude and Castiel ducked back into the master bedroom, and Jude scrambled up to press a minty kiss to his father's cheek.

"I hope you feel better soon, Daddy," Jude chirped cheerfully. "Unca' Cas is taking me to school today."

Dean smiled weakly for his son's sake and nodded. "Yeah, I know, kiddo. I'll see you later." As Castiel turned to leave, Dean chuckled. "What, I don't get a goodbye kiss from you, too?" he teased., 

Castiel spun on his heel, looming close to Dean with a grin. "I really don't think you want this mouth kissing you. I have yet to brush my teeth, so I have morning breath."

Dean wrinkled his nose and shoved his best friend away. "Gross, man." But he was laughing, and Castiel counted that as a temporary win in his book.

Castiel took Jude's hand and walked him out, snagging Dean's keys from the bowl on the table by the back door, taking the Impala with its booster seat to drop the child off at school before swinging by McDonald's on the way home and grabbing some of Dean's godforsaken favorite greasy breakfast foods. When he pulled back into the driveway, he titled his head up, peering at the window to Dean's bedroom to find his friend standing there at the casement, watching him quietly as Castiel climbed out, bag clutched in hand. Castiel raised the bag, and Dean gave him a short nod before Castiel let himself back into the house, setting the food on the table as he peeled off his jacket. He could hear Dean's footsteps on the curving staircase of the old house and then the creak of the old floorboards as he padded through the front entryway and down the front hall into the kitchen to pour himself a second cup of coffee.

"Greasy food, as requested," Castiel said, rifling through the bag long enough to grab his own hash brown and steak, egg, and cheese bagel. He gave Dean time to get his breakfast organized--pancakes buttered and drowned in fake syrup, the sausage also swimming in the sticky liquid, ketchup coating the yellow eggs and hash browns, biscuits split and smothered in more butter and cheap grape jelly--before he sat down across from Dean, taking a bite out of his plain hash brown.

"We need to make a plan, Dean."


	3. Chapter 3

Dean sat there for a moment, head held up in his other hand before he dropped the hash brown onto the Styrofoam platter with a noise of disgust. "Can't I at least eat first, man?"

Castiel frowned. "Dean."

Dean didn't look up, so Castiel repeated himself.

"What?" Dean snarled, finally jerking his head up to meet his best friend's eyes. He expected to find pity, but what he found was a serious expression with only a faint tinge of worry at the edges.

"I know you want to put this off as long as you can, but the longer you put it off, the more time it has to spread." Castiel's words cut to the bone, and Dean sagged in his chair.

"Sorry," he muttered softly, but Castiel scooted his chair around next to Dean, pulling Dean in tight.

"You're scared, I know. But this isn't something where if you ignore it, it'll go away, Dean. I just need you to remember you're not alone, okay?" Castiel said gently, and Dean leaned against him, nodding against his shoulder. "You're my best friend, Dean. I know we never talk about feelings--" Dean huffed a wry laugh at that, "--but the truth is that I love you and you love me. That's what friends do. This is scary, I know that you're thinking about what Anna went through, and yes, it's so much harder when you're the one going through it, but I will not leave you when you need me, Dean. How many times do I need to remind you? We pro--"

"--promised, I know," Dean said softly, cutting him off before pushing him back slightly. "You're right," he said, smearing his hand over his face. "You're right." He crammed the hash brown into his mouth in two bites. "Okay, what are we looking at here?"

Castiel was calm as he went through the information with Dean. "There's several types of chemo they use. Usually they'll combine two medications, and for a stage two, they'll do the surgeries and do four rounds of chemo. There's a possibility they may recommend radiation therapy, but I don't think it's likely. Either way, you'll probably want to consider banking sperm."

Dean promptly choked on the pancake he'd stuck in his mouth. "WHAT??"

Castiel sighed, rolling his eyes and passing Dean his orange juice and a napkin. "One of the possible side effects is infertility, Dean. What if you fall in love again and want more kids?"

Dean swiped messily as his watering eyes, coughing and trying to sip on his drink to force the food down the right way. "I highly doubt I'll fall in love again, man."

"It's been known to happen. Focus. Do you want to bank sperm?"

Dean sighed, scrubbing at his face with napkin. "Sure. Why not. One more cost I can't afford."

"Dean--" 

"No."

Castiel huffed a breath before continuing. "Likely side effects are hair loss, mouth sores, loss of appetite, nausea and vomiting--"

"--diarrhea, bruising, bleeding, fatigue, changes in taste, changes in hearing, pins and needles. C'mon, Cas, I remember those from Anna. Anything else?"

"Potential for long term lung and kidney damage," Castiel offered, and Dean cringed.

"Better than dead, I suppose."

"Dean, death is unlikely--" Castiel started, but Dean wheeled on him. 

"But it's possible, Cas! Anna started out at stage two! And it just got worse and worse, and she died! She left me, and she left Jude!" Dean snarled, shoving at Castiel's shoulder angrily.

But Castiel grabbed back, holding Dean firmly in place. "You listen to me, Dean Winchester. You will not die. Not yet. Not for years to come."

"What makes you think you can promise that?" Dean snapped.

"Because Jude still needs you. He needs you, Dean," Castiel assured as Dean tried to push him away.

"And what if it happens anyway? Who's gonna take care of him them?"

"Sam, I suppose. He's a blood relation."

Dean glared at the wall, resolutely looking away from Castiel. "Jude barely knows his uncle. And Sam...Sam's never raised a kid before. He's barely been around kids."

The silence hung coldly between them, stretching on for long moments until Castiel finally said in a low voice, "I could petition for custody, I suppose."

Dean turned in disbelief. "You? Cas, he's not your responsibility."

Castiel only shook his head in exasperation. "How many times do I have to remind you, Dean? My promise extended to Anna when she was alive, and it's been extended to Jude ever since you told me Anna was pregnant. I've helped you raise him just as much as your wife did, Dean. I may not be family by blood, but I'm family to you and to Jude."

"The courts won't care, Cas. I love Sam, and I'm sure he'd do great, but Jude....Jude would need you. You'd be the last shred of familiarity he'd have."

Castiel fidgeted slightly. "I...I could adopt him."

"How?"

"You wouldn't have to give up custody, Dean, but you could give me permission to adopt him. That way I would have a legal claim over him in case anything happened to you."

Dean poked at his sausage before shoving it into one biscuit. "You really have been looking stuff up."

Cas nodded silently.

"Okay. Okay, fine. That's...I mean...are you sure?"

Castiel nodded again, and Dean caught it out of the corner of his eye.

"Bobby always said family doesn't end in blood, Dean. He's my family, too," Castiel assured.

"Okay," Dean said again, nodding. "So how much is it going to cost me? My insurance is only going to cover 20%, man."

Castiel grimaced. "Quite a bit, Dean. I..." he trailed off, knowing that Dean never wanted charity.

But then another idea occurred to him, and he opened his mouth to share it, gasping in a breath and barely squeezing out another, "I--" before snapping his mouth shut again.

Dean glanced over at him. "You thought of something."

Castiel quickly shook his head, eyes wide.

Dean's eyes narrowed. "You did, you liar. You always were pretty bad at lying to me. What is it?"

Castiel shook his head again. "No, it's a terrible idea, I regret ever thinking about it and you'll never agree anyway."

Dean stared at him, Castiel fidgeting and sweating nervously until he finally blurted out, "I have better insurance than you do and if you married me, you could be on my insurance as my spouse," before snapping his mouth shut and slapping a hand over it, turning bright crimson red. He lifted his hand long enough to squeak out, "Terrible idea, am I right?" before clamping down again with his hand.

Dean frowned at him, mimicking Castiel's typical thoughtful head tilt. "Are you sure that's not, like, insurance fraud?"

Castiel slowly lowered his hand slightly. "Fraud would be saying you're someone that you're not. You would legally be my spouse."

It was Dean's turn to fidget. "But, uh, Cas, we're not even in love or anything."

"W-well, people get married for all kinds of reasons, Dean." Castiel had no idea why he was trying to justify this idea to his best friend. "And we may not be in love, but we do at least love each other, right?"

Dean stared intently at his eggs as he shoved them onto the other biscuit. "Right..."

"And, I mean, we could get a divorce afterward, citing the strain of your illness as the reason for our split or something?"

"I guess," Dean muttered, shoving the biscuit and egg into his mouth. "I just...I don't want to lose everything I've worked so hard for, my business, my home, all of it, you know? But how am I gonna explain that to everyone else? Or Jude?"

Castiel shrugged. "I know, Dean. And we can just go about our normal lives until it's relevant. It's not like we'll have to sleep in the same bedroom or consummate our marriage. So, is that a yes?"

Dean polished off the last of his breakfast, swallowing down the dregs of his orange juice before he turned to Castiel. "Strangest proposal I've ever heard, man, but okay. I'll marry you."


	4. Chapter 4

After working through the details, printing out the necessary paperwork, filling it out, and arguing with Castiel over who would pay the fees, Dean was surprisingly exhausted and went back to bed, citing a headache. He woke a few hours later to Castiel gently nudging his shoulder.

"'m tired, Cas, go 'way," Dean mumbled, but Castiel just bumped harder.

"What?" Dean finally snapped irritably.

"You need to eat. I made you lunch." The edge of the mattress sank under Castiel's weight as he sat.

Dean rolled toward him with a groan, pressing his face into his best friend's side, and he felt long fingers stroke through his hair. "Feed me," he whined pitifully, and Castiel's laughter vibrated through him.

"You're not that pitiful yet."

"You're a crappy fiance then," Dean shot back. He peeked up to find his friend grinning at him.

"A good fiance would earn such a favor, Dean." Castiel's tone was light and teasing.

"A favor, huh?" Dean grinned back up at him.

"If I were a cruel man, I'd demand a kiss."

Dean froze, panic flashing across his face. No. No, no, no, he couldn't kiss him, couldn't kiss his best friend and ruin everything. Dean just couldn't--

Although Castiel had done it intentionally to see the look on Dean's face, he regretted it immediately and he cut into Dean's obviously runaway thought process. "I apologize, Dean, I should not have teased you like that. Please forgive me."

Dean was quiet for a few moments, before his face slowly morphed into a grimace. "They'll expect us to kiss at the courthouse, though, won't they?"

Castiel frowned, tilting his head at Dean. "I suppose it is customary."

"We, uh, I should probably..."

"Dean, if you don't want to do it, I can think of another favor to ask of you instead," Castiel said, offering him an out, but Dean stared down at the fading patterning on his sheets.

"I should do it at least once, though, shouldn't I? Make sure I can do it at the courthouse without making folks suspicious?" The slightly sickly look on his face intensified. 

"Dean, I am honestly a bit uncomfortable with the idea myself." Castiel said cautiously. Dean's stomach lurched in a bizarre combination of relief and disappointment. "But you make an excellent point. We should, er, try kissing at least once so we're better prepared."

Dean tensed and sat up with a grunt, frowning as Castiel stared at him. "Close your eyes, man," Dean snipped, but his friend obliged.

Then Dean scrunched up his face, leaned in close, and then squeezed his eyes shut before pressing a quick kiss to Castiel's lips. The feeling of scruff against his own was foreign and made it impossible to pretend he was kissing anyone but a man, but Castiel's lips were soft and warm, and he tasted faintly of peanut butter and grape jelly--not an entirely horrible kiss at least. Not the best, but certainly not the worst, either.

"That was...pretty terrible," Castiel said when Dean pulled back.

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm a damn good kisser, asshole," Dean fired back, and as Castiel opened his eyes, he raised a brow in disbelief.

"I have a difficult time believing that. Poor Anna!"

Dean felt a jolt of guilt at the mention of Anna's name, but it was quickly drowned out by a wave of indignation. Before he could think or stop himself, one hand shot out to grab the back of Castiel's head, crashing their mouths together and swallowing his friend's startled cry as he tilted his head to slot their lips together. When Castiel finally responded, he reached up, gripping Dean's upper arms before pressing into the kiss and moving his lips against Dean's.

Even as chaste as the kiss was, Dean was breathless and panting for air when he pulled back. Castiel didn't appear to be faring much better, hands still on Dean's arms, face flushed and lips swollen and kiss-bruised.

Castiel swallowed hard when he opened his eyes, and Dean smirked.

"Well?" Dean asked smugly.

"I..." Castiel said hoarsely, "I do believe I was incorrect."

Dean's smirk widened to a grin. "I told you so."

"Shut up," Castiel replied primly. "Eat your lunch." He dropped a plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, carrot sticks, apple slices, and two Oreos in Dean's lap. Dean glanced at the nightstand where a glass of milk sat and rolled his eyes.

"At least I know my six-year-old won't starve. I wanted chocolate milk."

Castiel snorted. "You'll have to do me another favor to earn it."

"Like what? 'Cause I gotta say, sexual favors are out of the question."

Castiel just grinned. "Oh, darn. No, it's almost as painful, though."

Dean eyed him warily as he bit into his sandwich. "What then?" he asked tentatively, mouth full.

"Call Sam and tell him."

Dean choked, coughing out his sandwich.

"And maybe try this new invention called chewing."

"Are you nuts?!" Dean cried, still wheezing some.

Dean, Sam is your brother. He'll want to know," Castiel tried to reason. "If he knows I'll be looking after you and Jude, he won't be as worried, alright?"

"Cas--"

"If it was Sam, wouldn't you want to know?" Castiel demanded.

"That's different!" Dean shouted.

"No it's not!" Castiel's volume was rising to match Dean's. "You and Jude are his family!"

Dean stilled.

"Call him. Tell him. I don't care if you tell him not to come, I don't care! But I expect you to break the news to him  because he'll be furious if it's me! I can keep him updated after if need be, but you're going to tell him yourself. It shouldn't be someone else," Castiel replied, barely restrained righteous fury seeping through his voice.

He sagged suddenly, the wind blown out of his sails, and he slowly ran his hands up Dean's arms to cradle his face. "Dean, I know you want to protect Sam from the horrors of this world. I know you don't want to burden him with pain, especially your own. But he's a grown man, a lawyer now. And he loves you so very much. If you hide it and he finds out later that you did, he'll be so hurt, Dean, that you didn't trust him enough to be honest. Please."

Dean shut his eyes, forcing himself to remain steady and not instinctively lean into the warm hands on his face. He had to keep his shit together, because despite their long-ago promise and Castiel's words, he couldn't bear to burden Castiel with one more thing, either. He swallowed hard, proud that his voice came out steady when he said, "Okay, Cas. I'll call Sam tomorrow. I promise. I'm just too tired today and want to sleep."

"You don't want your chocolate milk then? Fine, I'll drink it," Castiel replied airily.

Castiel was grinning when Dean opened his eyes, face close, and for a moment, he swayed toward Dean like he was going to kiss him. But he stopped inches from Dean's mouth. "Or perhaps you wish for me to feed you that as well?"

Dean smiled, placing one hand on Castiel's cheek in a tender motion before shoving Castiel's face away. "Go get me chocolate syrup, or else I'll kiss you again."

Castiel chucked. "You know you want to," he shot back, but he climbed to his feet to head back downstairs for the Hershey's. He paused at the door, looking back at Dean. "I'll pick Jude up from school and make dinner tonight, okay? You just rest."

Dean nodded, staring fixedly at his plate. "Yeah. Thanks, man."

When Castiel returned with the bottle of syrup, though, Dean's plate sat on the nightstand half-eaten, and Dean was fast asleep again.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day was only a slight improvement on the first, enough that after Jude had been taken to school, Dean shoved Castiel out the door to work.

"You have patients, Cas. You can't just abandon your practice for me," Dean reasoned, but Castiel just huffed at him.

"If it were me, you wouldn't hesitate to take off."

"I fix cars. I don't save lives, Mister Doctor," Dean replied, rolling his eyes, and Castiel frowned.

"Yes, you do."

"Cas--"

"You do. Think about it. If you replace someone's brakes, you might have prevented an accident that could kill them, their passengers, or anyone they hit. If you fix a radiator, then maybe it won't blow while they're on the road, and they won't have to get out of their car and get hit by another driver by accident. If you refill power steering fluids, maybe they won't accidentally veer off the road and into a tree because they can actually steer."

Dean's face flushed a deep crimson, up his ears and down his neck. "It's not the same."

"Just because you're not a doctor doesn't make your job unimportant," Castiel responded gently. "I have leave time. You have savings and the income from the shop, and once the insurance comes through, the payments will be affordable. Maybe you'll do okay on the chemo and you'll be able to work at the counter or stay in the office and do paperwork. Maybe not. It's no loss for either of us." Dean frowned, but Castiel leaned in, pulling Dean close for a quick hug. "Don't forget to call Sam," he reminded, "and consider how to tell your employees, too."

"Fine, whatever," Dean mumbled. "Get out of here, or you'll be late for work,  _dear_ ," he added as a jibe, leaning to press a quick kiss to Castiel's cheek.

Castiel stiffened until Dean nodded towards a neighbor on her porch, watching them. Ah, yes, the ruse of a marriage plan. Castiel waved with a wobbly smile before pressing a similar kiss to the corner of Dean's mouth. "Have a good day, sweetheart."

Dean watched Castiel go before sagging against the door frame with a groan, one hand pressed to the corner of his mouth. How was he ever going to survive this?

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Work that day turned out to be busy, a packed scheduled with brake jobs, oil changes, fluid checks, tire rotations, and an engine with a squeal that turned out to be nothing more than a loose belt.

The only problem was that Dean was distracted, and Benny knew it, watching as Dean banged his head on a hood with a loud swear, dropped a wrench on his booted foot with an even louder swear, and finally almost put regular oil in a car with an oil that specifically stated synthetic. He and Cole swept in, pushing him out of the way to avoid further disaster, and Victor, his manager, sighed and shook his head as Charlie, his scheduling manager and cashier, stared at him from the other side of the window into the waiting area.

"What's wrong with you, brother?" Benny drawled as Victor guided him in a seat to look at the swelling knot on his head, Bobby leaning out from the office with a grumpy noise.

"Nothing."

Everyone stared at him in disbelief. 

"Nothing! I swear! I just..."

"What?" Bobby said, stepping out of the office. "You just what? You never have your head on straight when something's on your mind, so just spit it out, son."

Dean fidgeted at the nickname. Since his parents' death in a car accident a few years ago, Bobby and his wife Ellen had done everything in their power to fill the mom-and-dad-shaped gap in his and his brother Sammy's lives.

"It's...nothing. I mean..."

Bobby stared back at him, daring him to lie one more time, and Dean licked his lips. He wasn't ready to tell the truth. Not to everyone. So maybe a little white lie would do.

"It's...I've been having pain. Nothing major. It's just...like...nothing major. I'm gonna need to have surgery to have it fixed though--" he cut off when a few pairs of eyes widened immediately, his own eyes widening as he waved his hands. "No! No, no, nothing serious, just like a small thing, they're in, they're out, they take out the cause and they're done! I just...it's gonna get in the way of work for a few weeks after. No heavy lifting and shit."

"Oh." Benny said, he, Cole, and Victor relaxing immediately, although Bobby and Charlie didn't seem quite ready to take him at his word.

"Is that all that's worrying you?" Bobby asked, glaring at him, and Dean bit his lip, shaking his head.

"It's just a...cyst....thing. That's all. I just....Cas told me I should at least tell Sam about it, but I don't want him freaking out over nothing and coming out here or anything. Cas already promised to help me out until I can manage on my own again, is all." Dean stared down as his hands in his lap, restlessly clenching and unclenching his fingers.

"I can help," Charlie offered. 

"Me 'n Andrea, too," Benny chimed in.

"Of course, Tessa and I are willing to help any time, man. You want us to bring you food for a couple of nights?" Victor added.

Dean laughed weakly and shook his head. "Nah, thanks guys. Cas has it. He can handle it."

Bobby frowned. "That's a lot to put on one fella."

"I promise we'll let you know if it's too much, guys. Seriously. We can handle it."

Bobby nodded toward the office. "Why don't you go call Sam now? Before you dent a car. Or break a toe."

Dean made a strained noise but nodded, rising and slipping into the office, shutting and locking the door behind himself and sitting at the desk.

He stared at the computer for a solid two minutes before he finally pulled out his cellphone, checking the clock and calculating whatever Sam might be up to at that hour. Getting ready for work, Dean figured as he finally dialed.

The phone rang and rang, and for a moment, Dean feared it would go to voicemail before a familiar voice flooded the line. "Dean! It's early, what's up man?"

"Nothing. I just...had some news."

"News? Wow, that's great timing, Dean!" Sam's voice sounded muffled for a few minutes, and Dean could hear a faint feminine reply and a soft giggle. "We, um, we have news, too."

Dean grinned. Some good news could really cheer him up in the wake of his own miserable news. "Oh yeah? You go first."

"Okay, okay--Jess, stop, yes, I'm telling him now--alright. Are you ready? The big news is....Jess is pregnant! 12 weeks, Dean! We've--" Sam paused to laugh breathlessly, "--we've known for about a month but, you know, we didn't want to jinx it, so we waited for the end of the first trimester. Outside of us and the doctor and nurses, you're the first person to know! You're going to be an uncle!"

Dean's heart sank and his stomach plummeted. He'd thought good news meant something like promotion to partner or a win on a big case, that it would make a good buffer to 'Oh, by the way, I have cancer.' But no, a baby. That kind of news. Dean....Dean couldn't do it. He couldn't spoil their happiness, not now. They deserved it, especially since Sam and Jess had already suffered through two heartbreaking miscarriages.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was small and tentative, afraid of his brother's reaction.

"Sam, that's--that's awesome, man! I'm so happy for you both! You'll make wonderful parents!"

"You think?" Sam asked nervously, and Dean laughed. 

"I know so. You had a great role model growing up--me!"

Sam snorted, "Jerk."

"Bitch," tumbled instantly back out of Dean's mouth.

"So what was your news?" Sam asked, a smile evident in his tone.

Dean chewed at his lower lip, scrunching his brow up. "It's pretty stupid now. Worthless in comparison."

"Come on, Dean, what?" Sam seemed excited, and Dean scrambled for a lie, one that wasn't really a lie, it just would be enough to distract Sam.

"We've, uh--the shop, I mean--we've stayed in the black all year," Dean chuckled weakly. "We haven't done that since the shop opened, there's always been at least one month in the red. Not this year, though."

"Dean, that's wonderful! I'm really proud of you, you know. And, Dean, I do look up to you. You've always been there for me," Sam said, and Dean choked a little, swiping at his eyes. Yeah, he had been there for Sam. He was doing it, even now, protecting his brother, Castiel's words be damned.

"Thanks, Sammy. I, uh, I wanna know as soon as possible if it's a girl or boy, you hear me?"

"You bet. I miss you, and, um....I love you, Dean." Sam sounded shy, and so much younger than his years, desperate for his brother's approval and affections even now.

"Yeah, you too, kid."

After they'd hung up, Dean kept staring at his phone like it held the answer to all of his problems.

Except it didn't. It was just a phone, and Dean was just as stupid as he had been ten minutes ago.

At least if Castiel asked if he talked to Sam, he could say yes, and it wouldn't be a lie.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you figure out who Mr. Eros is? ;)

A week or two passed unremarkably, Castiel moving into Dean's guest room with minimal fuss--except for Jude's excitement over the apparent "sleepover".

They picked a Friday with a slow schedule, called in Cole for an extra hand, even though he wasn't scheduled, and asked Andrea to watch Jude for a few hours while they, according to their excuse, were using the time to prepare for Dean's upcoming "minor" surgery. Instead, however, they slipped quietly into suits, and Castiel's tie ended up a backwards mess. Dean quirked a soft smile.

"What are you gonna do without me?" he asked with a wry chuckle as he reached for Castiel's tie, swiftly retying it.

Before he could pull away, Castiel's hands settled on his and Dean looked up. "Dean, you'll be fine. I promise. The road will be hard, but I have faith."

Dean snorted. "In God?"

"In you." Castiel's voice was low but firm. "You are stronger than you know." One corner of his mouth twitched up, and he leaned up close to Dean, their mouths a teasing few inches apart. "So, shall we get married and share joint custody of your son?"

"In a few hours, he'll be yours, too," Dean replied, his focus on Castiel's hot breath against his lips. His tongue darted out briefly, a quick jolt of satisfaction coursing through him when Castiel's eyes momentarily flicked downward.

"Alright then, Mr. Winchester. Let's go."

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The drive was surprisingly silent, even though Dean fidgeted nervously for a while, flexing one hand restlessly until Castiel reached out and took it in his own.

"Dean, everything will be fine."

"Yeah, sure." At a red light, Dean glanced down at their joined hands. "Maybe we should, I dunno, hold hands on the way in?"

"Alright, Dean." Castiel smiled indulgently.

At the court house, after Dean parked, he quickly circled the car to help Castiel out from the passenger side.

"Shouldn't I be helping you?" Castiel asked. quizzically.

Dean scowled. "You'll be doing plenty of that soon enough, Cas. I want to do what I can, while I can." He reached in, pulling Castiel up beside him and shutting the door to his precious Impala before taking both of them inside. The lines were moderate--the wait to file for Castiel's adoption of Jude took nearly two hours before they were able to submit the paperwork and fees.

"So," the official, one Missouri Moseley,  asked with a curious glance at them, "who's adopting whose son?"

Dean smiled sadly, squeezing the hand he hadn't released the entire time. "My son. Cas is my best friend, he's pretty much always helped me raise him. Since...since his mother died. I've been worried, you know? I want there to be someone to raise him in case anything happens to me."

Missouri pursed her lips, nodding as she eyed their clasped hands. "You two doing anything else today in such nice suits?"

"Getting hitched." Dean's smile turned shy as he turned to Castiel just slightly, nuzzling against his jaw and applying a chaste kiss to the stubble-darkened skin.

Castiel, to his credit, managed to pull off one moment of decent acting, and rather than stiffening as before or pulling away completely, he twisted his head and pecked a kiss to Dean's brow.

"That's sweet. Match made in heaven, you two are perfect for each other." She pointed down the hall. "You'll find the line for marriage licenses down that way." Castiel turned to pull Dean down the hall, but Missouri wasn't done with them. "Oh, and boys? Marriage isn't always easy, but yours? It will be worth it. Fight for it."

Dean tried to hide his thin smile but nodded carefully. "We will."

Castiel was quiet.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Halfway down the hall, Dean pulled Castiel to a stop, and the blue-eyed man turned back to him. 

"Is...is something wrong, Dean? Are you rethinking this?"

Dean frowned, running a hand through his hair. "No. No, I'm just--it's going to be real now. This is not at all how I pictured myself getting remarried, I gotta tell you."

Castiel sighed patiently. "It's only temporary, Dean."

For a moment, uncertainty clouded Dean's face, but it was gone just as fast as the cocky, self-assured Dean that Castiel was more familiar with finally resurfaced. One corner of Dean's mouth quirked up, and he snagged Castiel's belt loops, reeling him in. "Dude, maybe I won't want to divorce you. Maybe being married to my best friend will be the best thing to ever happen to me. I mean, you are pretty awesome."

Oddly enough, Castiel was thankful for the smirk and attitude, despite Dean's teasing words. "There would be no sex, Dean, and I know you well enough to know you couldn't go without sex."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with having needs, okay? But I can figure out a situation, anything for you, baby." Dean winked, and despite himself, Castiel laughed, pushing at his chest.

Dean nodded toward the bathroom across the hall a beat later, loosening his grip and letting Castiel go free. "Need to take a leak and psych myself up for this. You need to come along or are you good to wait another two hours at least?"

"I'm fine. I am, however, going to grab coffee while I wait so I don't fall asleep or seem utterly bored senseless by the notion of marrying an ass."

Dean snorted, turning to face Castiel as he walked away, backwards. "Hey, this is one hell of a fine ass, and it just so happens I'm going to be your ass very shortly. Better get used to it."

His grin was light and infectious, and Castiel allowed him a smile, for beneath the cheerful surface, he knew what was lurking--and that Dean was merely trying to push it back for as long as possible.

Dean stepped into the facilities and looked around before claiming the stall at the far end of the bathroom. He never used to be self-conscious about whipping it out in public before, but ever since the diagnosis came, he felt...off about it. He unzipped, pulled himself out to relieve himself. Would he ever have to worry about sex again? The doctor would he essentially half castrating him, would it affect his testosterone? His sex drive? He'd dated here and there since Anna died, but no one was right for him and Jude both, so the only action he'd had in months was his right hand. He drew in a deep breath, sighing as he finished. Might as well face reality, his dick was going to be useless for anything but taking a piss for a while.

After a tuck and a zip, he stepped out to wash his hands but ground to an immediate halt at the sight of a fat dude in his underwear standing at the sink. "Uh..."

The guy turned and smiled at Dean over his shoulder. "Sorry, wardrobe malfunction with hot coffee." He held up a stained dress shirt, and Dean winced sympathetically as he stepped forward to wash his hands.

"I'm Mr. Eros. What brings you in today?"

With a glance over and a haggard smile, Dean scrubbed at his hands. "Gettin' married, man."

Mr. Eros frowned. "For a guy getting married, you don't seem all that happy."

Dean shrugged. "It...I...It's not exactly ideal circumstances right now."

Mr. Eros carefully looked over Dean, his expression, his stance. "Then wait until things are better so you don't regret your decision."

When Dean looked up, there was a split second of sad, scared eyes before it disappeared again.

"If we wait, there may not be a later." He cleared his throat and stared at his wet hands hard. "Cancer."

Mr. Eros' face fell. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Dean?" Castiel was leaning inside of the bathroom, glancing briefly at Mr. Eros. "Ah, sweetheart? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, baby, I'm coming."

Mr. Eros glanced between them, sizing them up, but he wisely said nothing more.

The moment Dean's hands were dry, he grabbed for Castiel's hand and pulled him away to the line.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Dean shrugged, staring at the back of the couple ahead of them, a young man and woman who kept glancing back at them. With every look, Dean felt more and more exposed, like they could see into him, every flaw, down to his very own DNA betraying him as it split, multiplied, spread its filth. Finally Dean glared and snapped at them, "You got a problem?" and they at least had the decency to look abashed over being caught. Castiel frowned, tugging Dean closer by the hand as the couple quickly turned back around hurriedly. "No, seriously, do you have a problem?"

"Dean," Castiel hissed, looking up at the couple. "I'm sorry about him," he said apologetically.

"Don't apologize for me," Dean snipped grouchily, and Castiel leaned against his side, pressing his mouth against Dean's ear.

"Behave."

"Make me."

"Don't tempt me," Castiel growled, squeezing his hand hard. "What's the problem?"

Dean glared back, but he muttered sullenly, glancing away. "Nothing."

"Is it because they keep looking at us?"

"Cas--"

"Dean, you've never cared what people thought before. Why start now?"

"Because I never felt like a freak before!" Dean whispered back, although that...might not have been entirely true. His concerns just felt more...pressing now. Dean didn't miss the way Castiel's eyes flared open as he flushed.

"Do you think that people in same sex relationships are freaks?"

Dean's brow knit together in confusion. "Wait, what? How did we get from--what?"

"Do you think that people in same sex relationships are freaks? Because if so, I have serious doubts about this working out."

Dean pulled his hand free to scrub at his face. "How the hell did you come to that conclusion?"

"Given that they keep staring at us, we're about to get married, and you just called yourself a freak--" Castiel started angrily ticking points off on his fingers. 

"Cas, this isn't--no, Cas, this is stupid. It's not a...it's a cancer thing, man."

Castiel's face went slack with surprise, his mouth an "o". "What?"

"I know it's dumb, okay? I haven't even started treatment yet, but I always feel like people are staring, like they know. Like they can see it somehow." Like they think Dean deserved what he got for what he did to Anna.

"Oh." Castiel was still for a few moments more, processing. He knew Dean had anxieties over the diagnosis, whether he said anything or not. He knew cancer patients often went through the stages for grief for themselves, even when the prognosis was good, he knew that Dean worried because of Anna's death and Jude's life. But this was news to him.

"Maybe therapy--" 

"No, Cas."

Castiel sighed. "You can't keep things like this bottled up. You used to tell me everything, now you hide things. If you won't tell me, it would help to tell someone else."

"No." Dean was being a stubborn ass, and he knew it.

"Then talk to me, Dean. Or Sam, or Bobby."

"Cas--" Dean huffed, but Castiel wasn't done yet.

"Promise me to at least think about it," Castiel said firmly, frowning at Dean sternly.

"Fine. I promise. Happy?" Dean actually had the nerve to pout at him, even though he knew it was best to at least make that tiny concession.

"Ecstatic," Castiel replied flatly, and they remained silent for several minutes while they followed the line before Castiel piped up again. "So do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Think people in same sex relationships are freaks?"

Dean was quiet for a long time, long enough that Castiel had come to believe Dean wasn't going to answer him. So when Dean finally spoke, it startled Castiel.

"My grandfather did."

"So did my father," Castiel replied quietly, averting his eyes to the cracked tile.

"I remember."

"So do you?" Castiel asked again.

"I try not to think about it. Whatever I do think about it, I feel like my grandpa's opinion fucked it up. Like it isn't really my opinion. So I try to not even think about it, in case I say something he might have, even if I don't mean it. Does that make sense?"

"You clearly think there's something wrong with your grandfather's opinion. That's a good start, Dean." Castiel turning, looking Dean steadily in the eye.

"What about you? Your dad?"

"I think...I think they're people, just like you and me."

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 When it was their turn, Dean and Castiel stepped into the marriage official's office as the man flipped through their paperwork. 

"Everything's in order," he said as he stood, picking up a Bible out of a pile. 

The ceremony was quick, robotic, and Dean and Castiel briefly parroted back their vows, exchanging simple rings.

"I now pronounce you married. You may kiss."

When Castiel's arm looped around Dean's waist, he turned and leaned in, cupping a hand against Castiel's cheek and tilting his head before dipping in and sliding their mouths together in a lingering kiss. Castiel made a soft noise in this throat when he finally pulled away, and Dean swept a thumb over his cheek, smirking.

"Your face is bright red." Dean grinned.

Castiel smacked his shoulder. "Don't make me regret marrying you already," he replied with no heat, smiling back shyly.

The official cleared his throat, and Dean and Castiel looked up as the official passed them a pen. "Please sign here," he said dully, nodding at the marriage license, and they both signed.

With that, the basics were done. Jude adopted, Dean and Castiel married. They would have to file for insurance purposes, but it was done.

On the drive home, the ring on Dean's finger quickly became the heaviest burden he bore, and he frowned at it at a red light.

"Something on your mind?" Castiel asked quietly, and Dean glanced over, meeting his eyes briefly.

"Just that I should have made you sigh a prenup."

Castiel snorted, distracted. "Ditto."

"Oh, and that your acting skills were surprisingly good for once. You're usually pretty wooden," Dean snickered, and Castiel swung sideways, smacking his arm.

"Assbutt."

"Hey, don't hit the guy with cancer! Especially not your extremely hot husband!" Dean cackled, and Castiel huffed a laugh.

"I have one of those? Will you let me know when you find him?"

"Hey! Now who's the 'assbutt'?"

They tumbled out of the car at home, laughing, and that was when Dean heard a frail, older voice call out to him, "Oh, Dean dear! There you are!"

Dean turned to find Marjorie, his neighbor, smiling at them.

"Hello, Marj. How are you? Staying warm?"

"I'm fine, dear," she replied as her eyes wandered down to their hands. "Oh! I wondered why you'd gone out so nicely dressed together! I always though that perhaps Dr. Novak was your sweetheart." She smiled widely at them, hands clutched to her chest and eyes suspiciously misty. "Congratulations, I'm so happy for you both." She stepped forward, lightly patting Dean on the cheek. "You should have told me, I would have gotten you a gift."

Dean smiled and reached for Castiel's hand, squeezing. "Thanks, but Cas is the only gift I need. Besides, we're still kind of...keeping it on the down-low. It's a busy time of year, there's no spare time for fussing over it, so we'll celebrate for real later."

"That's so sweet," Marjorie replied before patting Castiel's shoulder. "Dean is good man, so you take care of him, you hear me?"

"I plan to."

They parted, and Dean stepped into the foyer, pulling off his tie. "Nice acting out there, too."

"That wasn't acting, Dean. I will take care of you. But, ah, your acting was sufficient as well."

Dean ducked his head. "Also not acting." He smiled a small, tiny thing. "I have a pretty awesome best friend."

"And husband." Castiel smirked.

"Asshole."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the legal aspects are not entirely to code...and yes, I did intentionally have Castiel adopt Jude first--because the adoption does not hinge on their temporary marriage.


	7. Chapter 7

The morning of the surgery dawned, and Dean showered at a leisurely pace despite the stabbing guilt that Castiel was, yet again, getting Jude up and ready for school. He could hear his son's inquisitive chirp over the rush of the water, asking Castiel something by his pitch, but the words were too muffled to make out fully. He reached forward, turning the water off and grabbing a towel to mop at his hair and wrestle it into a somewhat less soaked state as his stomach growled unhappily. One hand dropped, the palm kneading against his belly, the faint pudge there. But chemo, man. He knew from watching Anna wither away that it wouldn't last. She'd been slender to begin with, although she'd grown softer from carrying Jude, and Dean had gone out of his way to make her feel beautiful and not as though she had to lose weight for him. It had become a point of contention before the cancer diagnosis, and then it didn't matter anymore.

He tucked a second towel around his waist, swinging the door open to his master bedroom, and he flinched instantly when found Jude perched on the bed, Castiel leaning on the door jamb.

"Hi Daddy!"

"Uh, h-hi sport,"  Dean stammered. He clutched at his towel, glancing around for his robe when he spotted the slow smirk crawling up one corner of Castiel's mouth at his discomfort. "Don't be an--" Dean glanced down at Jude. "Don't be rude, Cas."

"I wasn't aware I had said anything."

"You're staring!" Dean snipped back, waving his free hand. "Always with the staring."

"My apologies," Castiel replied, although the mirth in his eyes negated any apology. "Although it is a rather interesting view."

Jude hopped off the bed and reached out, tugging at the towel for Dean's attention. Dean yelped, squeezing at it harder. As Castiel laughed, Dean glared at him momentarily before glancing down again at Jude's plaintive expression. "What's up, kiddo?"

"Uncle Cas says to give you a kiss before Aunt Andrea picks me up for school."

"Uh..." Dean knelt awkwardly, and Jude pressed a kiss to his freshly shaven cheek before Dean tugged him in and kissed Jude's soft hair.

"And Uncle Cas says you're havin' surgery, so I'll have to be gentle and not jump on you. And that you can't pick me up for a while." Jude's face fell, a pitiful look begging his dad to tell him it wasn't true.

"I'm sorry, sport. Uncle Cas is right." He squeezed Jude lightly. "It'll only be a little while, though, it doesn't mean I don't love you. You know that, right?" he asked when he felt Jude's shoulders hitch and felt wetness against his neck.

"Mama was sick. She had surgery and then she got sick and died!" Jude wailed, and Dean's limbs locked up on him as a shiver ran down his spine. 

"Daddy's not gonna die, okay?" he replied, voice shaking. "I promise, and Uncle Cas promises."

But Anna had promised, too.

"Let me get dressed, then we can cuddle until Aunt Andrea gets here, okay?" Dean rubbed a soothing line down Jude's back, and Jude nodded, sniffling wetly as Castiel cupped the back of Jude's head. "Go wait downstairs. We'll cuddle on the couch."

"Noooo," Jude whined, his little face twisted up in little boy anguish. "I wanna cuddle in bed!"

"Fine, go wait in your room," Dean sighed, but then Jude shook his head and pointed at Dean's massive king-sized bed with memory foam mattress.

"Your bed, Daddy! There's room for Uncle Cas, too!"

"Maybe Uncle Cas doesn't want to cuddle, sport. Grown men who are friends don't usually do that kind of thing," Dean said, but Jude's lower lip wobbled, and his eyes filled with tears. Normally, Dean would have nipped that in the bud, but Jude was terrified. He'd had no idea that Jude remembered watching his mother die--he'd been so young, after all.

"You and me will cuddle, okay?" Dean replied, shooting Castiel an apologetic look.

"I don't mind, Dean," Castiel cut in. "It's not an imposition. Really. After all of those nights spent sleeping over at one another's homes as teenagers, I don't mind."

Dean's expression shifted to one of gratitude. "I'll, uh, I'll be right back," he said, shifting to grab boxers, sweats, and a loose t-shirt before retreating back into the bathroom. When he emerged again, Castiel was on one side of the bed, Jude in the middle, leaving an open spot for Dean on the other side, and he perched on the edge of the mattress, uncertainty playing over his handsome features.

Castiel just rolled his eyes and tugged on his arm. "Lie down, Dean, I won't bite."

"What if I want you to?" Dean asked teasingly, and he grinning gleefully as Castiel was the one to turn red this time. He rolled in closer, tucking in against Jude's back and tangling his legs with Castiel's.

"Ew, why would you want someone to bite you?" Jude chimed in.

Dean's stomach chose that moment to growl again, protesting its emptiness. "Well," Dean snarled, grabbing Jude's chubby little arm, "maybe because a hungry monster is coming to eat you!" He made growling and biting noises, snapping his teeth together over Jude's pink skin before burying his face against his sweet-smelling neck and growling as he tickled him.

Jude squealed and squirmed until he'd twisted and octopus-wrapped himself around Dean, and when Dean glanced up at Castiel with a grin, he was met with soft eyes and a fond smile, a look that really made him want to--nope. Nix that thought. Fake married, he couldn't really do that.

"What?" he settled on asking, and Castiel shrugged.

"You always worried if you'd be a good dad. So far, so good." Castiel leaned closer, and Dean's heart thumped in momentary panic before his best friend tucked his head against Dean's shoulder. Dean could feel it when he frowned.

"Dean, your heart rate is elevated, are you feeling unwell?"

"Anxious about today, I guess," Dean confessed as the three of them lay there. What, it was partly true!

Castiel's fingers found their way to Dean's, slotting them together, and he squeezed, laying there in silence until the door bell rang, announcing Andrea's arrival. Castiel rose to his feet, picking up Jude's bag as Dean carried the six-year-old downstairs one last time.

Andrea smiled when the door swung open to greet her. "Ready to go, kid?" she drawled, and Jude shook his head and clung tighter.

"You gotta go to school, sport. I swear, it'll keep your mind off things," Dean said, planting a big, wet smooch on Jude's cheek.

The child squealed and smeared at it, so Dean did it again and again until Jude cried, "Put me down, Daddy!" and Dean released him. Jude darted behind Castiel's legs, clinging to him, and Dean chuckled.

"Give Uncle Cas a hug goodbye, kid," Andrea said, and Jude briefly clung to Castiel before taking his Batman backpack and running to Andrea.

"You ready to go?" she asked again, taking his hand, and Jude nodded. "So how was your morning?" she asked as they walked toward her car, booster seat visible in the back.

"We cuddled this morning and Daddy got embarrassed because Uncle Cas saw him in a towel."

"You and Daddy cuddled?"

Jude nodded. "And Uncle Cas!"

Dean shut the door as Andrea stared at them.

"Well, that wasn't uncomfortable or anything," Castiel quipped with a grin.

"Shut up."

 

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Half an hour later, Castiel drove Dean to the hospital, Dean slumped in the front passenger seat and layered in a flannel and leather jacket. Castiel reached for his hand, squeezing it.

"We're going to need to get you a warm winter coat."

"Hm."

"An electric blanket, fleece pants and pullovers, lined socks."

"Cas--"

"You'll be cold, Dean."

"I know, Cas, but I don't want to talk about it! Can you just...do it? Please? Anna..." Dean broke off, and Castiel sagged, pulling away.

"Of course, Dean."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Dean," Castiel replied with a sad smile.

"I'm an asshole, okay? I'm sorry, I'm--" Dean sighed. "I keep taking my shit out on you. I took it out on whiskey when Anna was sick, but I can't even drink now. And I had Jude to keep me busy. I won't even be able to do that."

"Okay."

Dean turned to stare at the side of Castiel's head. "Okay? That's it?"

"If you want to bitch at me, I promise to try to not take it personally, Dean."

Dean continued to stare, processing. This was Castiel, his best friend, self-sacrificing as always. Dean knew how Castiel functioned, mostly, but he also knew how he functioned.

"I can't promise I won't make it personal, Cas. We both know me. I get scared, angry, and I drive people away."

"You hurt them before they can hurt you, I know. But I'm still here. We can figure it out."

"Why? Why do you stick around through my bullshit?" Dean winced, his brow scrunching up in confusion and pain.

"Because you're my best friend, Dean. I love you." Castiel paused at a red light, glancing over, puzzled by the silence. "Dean?"

"Uh...I love you, too, man," Dean stammered, and Castiel smirked at him before looking back up at the road.

"I know."

"Did you just Han Solo me?"

 

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At the hospital, Castiel parked before walking Dean inside and over to surgery, where Dr. Fitzgerald was waiting.

"Dr. Novak, I'm surprised to see you here," Dr. Fitzgerald said as he and Castiel shook hands.

"Dean and I have known each other for years. He apprised me of the, ah, situation early on."

Dr. Fitzgerald nodded. "You have a support system, that's good," he said to Dean before glancing back at Castiel. "Will you be driving him?"

Castiel nodded. "I'll be his caretaker throughout the process."

"Well, good, I'm glad. So we can list the driver as a friend."

Castiel smiled tightly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

It took five tries, after Dean was taken to the back, to get an IV in--two failed wrist attempts, one crook of the elbow, and a mid-forearm botch before they finally jabbed the back of his hand. By then, Dr. Fitzgerald had rejoined them, flipping through Dean's file. 

"Says here your insurance changed," he said aloud, scanning, and then his brows shot up. "And your marital status."

"Uh, yeah." Dean shifted nervously.

"Wife's looking after your son?"

Dean shrugged. "Kid's at school."

"Work, then?"

Dean around before huffing a humorless laugh. "Something like that."

He didn't miss Dr. Fitzgerald's sympathetic look, but Dean wasn't going to tell Castiel's coworkers anything.

"Can I see Cas one last time before we go in?"

Dr. Fitzgerald's eyes widened in surprise briefly, but he sent a nurse to retrieve a confused-looking Castiel.

"Dean? Are you okay?" Castiel slid into the seat beside Dean's bed.

Dean shrugged weakly. "Just...I..." Dean's jaw worked wordlessly as he struggled. "Cas..."

Castiel smiled and reached for his hand to squeeze it before leaning over to wrap his arms around Dean. Although stiff with surprise at first, Dean leaned into it, holding on tight. "Make sure they take the right one. Don't wanna be a total eunuch, man."

Castiel chuckled weakly, and Dean swore he felt the ghost of a kiss against his temple, but when Castiel pulled back, he was smiling brightly. "You'll be fine, Dean." One last hand squeeze, and it was time to go. "Good luck. I lo--I'll be waiting." He ignored Dean's puzzled expression at his near-error as the nurse began to wheel him away.

The moment the nurse turned the corner, Castiel sank back into the chair, and Dr. Fitzgerald patted his shoulder.

"You're worried."

"I can't help it. I've known Dean since we were fourteen. He's the one person I'm closest to, and he's suffered so much already. It just doesn't seem fair."

"So often it's the good ones. But surely you know his chances are good?" Dr. Fitzgerald replied.

"It doesn't keep you from worrying, though, does it?"

"I'll tell you a secret, Dr. Novak. I cry over all of them. Joy when they go into remission, sadness when it comes back or they lose the fight. But as a doctor, you keep it to yourself. You don't put that on your patient."

Castiel looked up at Dr. Fitzgerald. "I know. Every time someone dies in the ER, I go home and cry."

"Don't forget to take care of yourself, too. It's hard being the caretaker, never letting them see how it weighs on you." Dr. Fitzgerald pulled out a card and handed it to Castiel. "This is a website that you can use to find a qualified caretaker if you ever find yourself needing a hand."

Castiel smiled tensely, but he put the card in his pocket anyway. "I can handle it, but thank you."

 

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By the time Dean was in recovery, he was woozy as hell and incoherent, even once Castiel came in to see him.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean blinked at him sleepily, a slow smile crossing his face as he swayed toward Castiel.

"Hey Cas." He squinted against the light, reaching up and touching unsteady fingers to his best friend's dark hair. "Looks like an angel. Glowy and shit."

Castiel glanced back at the fluorescent light behind his head and shifted his chair sideways until Dean frowned at him.

"How are you feeling, Dean?"

"Sick to my stomach."

Castiel immediately raised a finger for a nurse, and one dark-haired, bright-eyed surgical oncology nurse hurried over. Castiel smiled amiably.

"Nurse Barnes. The patient's experiencing some post-anesthesia nausea. If you please?"

"Dr. Novak, this isn't your usual department," Pamela responded with an easy smile, even as she passed him a vial of anti-emetics to push.

"Here in a strictly non-professional capacity," Castiel replied, although he signed off for the drug.

"Caaaaaas..." Dean whined, pawing through the air until Castiel grasped his hand with one of his own, using the other to push Dean's hair from his forehead. He stiffened as Pamela gasped behind him.

"Is that a wedding ring?" She hurried closer, eyes gleaming. "It is! When did you get married, doc?" And why didn't you tell anyone?"

Dean smiled dazedly, covering Castiel's left hand with his own, and Pamela gasped again, glancing between them as Castiel gave her a tight grimace.

"Gonna give me a kiss, Cas?" Dean asked, peering up hopefully, but Castiel shook his head.

"No, and you're going to behave." Castiel twisted and peered back up at Pamela with pleading eyes. "And I would appreciate it if you would keep this to yourself, Nurse Barnes. It was a health-related decision, and we have had no time to celebrate, nor will we have the energy. We will make a more official announcement after, ah..." He paused, glancing over at Dean, who was still just gazing at him, smiling stupidly and holding onto Castiel's hand against his cheek.

Pamela nodded with a knowing look, a grim set to her expression. "Of course, doc. Chemo's very stressful, But..." A small shadow of her smile returned. "I see a long, happy life for both of you, and the boy, too."

Castiel had heard rumors of Pamela's predictions before, but this time, Castiel knew she was wrong. Still, he smiled back at her tersely. "Of course, Nurse Barnes. Thank you."

 

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"Ugh," Dean moaned as Castiel helped him shift onto his bed at home. "Ow."

"Ow?" Castiel asked.

"As in ouch, as in pain, as in something hurts--" Dean groaned. "Sorry, you're trying to help. Sorry."

"'Ow' is fine, Dean. I need to know when you're in pain in order to help. And where." Castiel slid his arms under Dean's and around his back to scoot him further up on the pillows. "Are stitches pulling? Pain meds wearing off?"

"Both," Dean hissed as he planted his palms onto the mattress to shift uncomfortably. "I need to, umm..."

"If you can tell me that you had a lump on your testicle to begin with, you can tell me whatever it is now."

Dean made a displeased noise, leaning his head back against the mattress. "I need to...adjust myself."

"When has that ever stopped you?" Castiel snorted.

"Well, I don't usually stick my hand down my pants with you watching!"

Castiel just rolled his eyes. "And to think you wanted me to kiss you an hour ago and now you're too shy to grab your dick in front of me."

To his surprise, Dean jerked up abruptly, yelping in pain as he flushed bright red.

"I can do it for you."

"No!" Dean promptly shoved his hand down the front of his pants, wincing as he felt around the stitches. "Christ. Does this make me like, half the man now?"

As he withdrew, Castiel held out a bottle of hand sanitizer with a scowl. "Don't ever think that, Dean. You're one of the strongest people I know."

"No one's gonna want to have sex with me after this. I'm disfigured."

"Love is not sex. Someone who loves you will understand and love you anyway, or perhaps more for it. Once you're well again, you should be perfectly able to get and maintain an erection. One testicle is not a sign of impotence. It's a sign of your strength, character, and will to survive. Anyone who loves you will respect you, not laugh at you."

Dean quirked a small smile as Castiel handed him a couple of pills from the pharmacy and a bottle of water. "You sure know how to make a guy feel better, Cas."


	8. Chapter 8

Dean sighed. After spending the last seven days resting at home (although the couch today was a nice change from his bed upstairs), he still felt twinges and aches and pulls from the stitches between his legs and stretching up the sides of his lower pelvis. For such a small incision for the lymph nodes, they seemed to cause the most chafing against his sweatpants, and he winced as he shifted again.

Three days in, Dr. Fitzgerald had called with the news: Yes, it absolutely was cancer. Yes, it had reached his inguinal and deep inguinal lymph nodes. No, the biopsies from other lymph nodes had come back negative. Yes, they were still going forward with chemotherapy, just to be on the safe side because his testis-specific antigen was high.

Four months. Dean was lined up for at least four months.

But....people worked on chemo all the time. It wouldn't stop him from working, would it?

Dr. Fitzgerald said to wait and see. What did that even mean, wait and see? Dean was not a 'wait and see' kind of person! He was a 'dive in headlong, consequences be damned' kind of man!

But...Anna had been so tired. So pale and so weak.

Dean frowned, shaking his head and bringing himself back to the present as the door swung open and Dean heard Jude's excited chattering as Castiel led him in by the hand.

Castiel smiled and gave a tiny wave before he turned back to Jude. "Go show Daddy."

Jude squealed, scrambling up onto the couch and nearly flinging himself at Dean before Castiel cut in with a stern, "Jude". The child shrank back, glancing up at Castiel guiltily.

"Sorry Unca' Cas, I forgot."

Jude's memory wasn't the best, Dean chuckled to himself, especially when he was excited. So Dean reached out a welcoming arm to pull Jude in close to his side as Castiel hung up his coat and began to flip through the mail.

"What're you doing over there, Cas?" Dean asked, grinning as Jude rummaged through his Batman backpack. "There's plenty of room on my other side for you." 

He patted the cushion, and Castiel stared at him with barely veiled amused irritation. Dean pulled out the big guns then, pushing out his lower lip and widening his eyes sadly.

"I've been here alone all day and now that I want company, you're going to ignore me?"

Castiel huffed, bringing the mail with him as he sat on Dean's other side, nearly jumping out of his skin when Dean grabbed his hand, threading their fingers together and leaning against his shoulder as Jude gave a triumphant cry. Out of his backpack, he pulled a sparkly, glittery mess.

"Look, Daddy, we made Christmas ornaments today! Well, holiday ornaments. Ms. Wilson says 'cause different people celebrate different things, like Jennie Weinberg made a menorah. Have you ever heard of a menorah, Daddy?"

Dean smiled and picked up the ornaments, even as glitter rained into his lap. "What are they, sport?"

"Angels. I told Ms. Wilson you've been sick and she said I should make angels to watch over you. I made one that looks like Mama, and Grandma Mary, and Grandpa John."

"You didn't make one of Uncle Cas?" Dean asked, ruffling Jude's dark hair.

Jude shook his head, scowling. "Of course not, Daddy! Unca' Cas is here! Mama and Grandma and Grandpa aren't, so they have to watch over you and be your angels!"

"But Uncle Cas is watching over me, sport." Dean grinned, squeezing Castiel's hand. Castiel fought against the blush rising under his collar.

Jude hummed, scrunching his brow up. "Weeeeeelllll...maybe Unca' Cas is an angel, too. But he's still here, so I didn't make one of him."

Dean slowly pushed himself upright to prop the angels on the tree in the corner--a fake one this year for easier cleanup, but some expensive thing Castiel had insisted on buying from Balsam Fir. Castiel wouldn't tell him the cost, but a little internet research left Dean floored. Who paid $800+ for a fake Christmas tree?? 

Apparently Castiel did.

Dean stepped back, trying in vain to dust the glitter from his hands as Castiel came up behind him, so Dean just turned and smeared his hands on the white dress shirt. Castiel scowled, dusting at his shirt uselessly, and Dean cackled, "Gotta share the glittery goodness."

Castiel sighed, shaking his head. "You have got to find a better way to entertain yourself until you're able to go back to work. Have you even gotten things arranged with everyone at work for them to cover for you on the floor?"

"Yes!" Dean protested, and when Castiel crossed his arms and raised a brow, Dean huffed. "Yes!" he declared again. "Cole is covering more hours at the shop now. He's glad for it."

Castiel cast one more dubious glance at Dean before he headed into the kitchen to make dinner and allowed Dean to curl up with Jude while the boy did his homework. This had been the majority of their evenings this week, curled up together over spelling, over a book, watching a movie, and more often than not, Jude had demanded that "Unca' Cas" join them because Daddy needed to not be alone when they were home.

The few times Castiel had managed to escape, it was to go grocery shopping down the road at the Stop & Shop or Trader Joe's (despite Dean's complaints about "organic crap"), or to walk the block to the closest CVS for Dean's prescriptions, including the newest one for prednisone. Even then it was a production, trying to assure Jude that Dean would be okay without Castiel for a while. On one outing, Castiel had managed to knock out Dean's Christmas shopping list, although Dean staunchly refused to tell him what he'd gotten Castiel for Christmas. They both desperately wanted this Christmas to be a good one, since it would be right after Dean's first round of chemo. He'd wanted to wait, but Dr. Fitzgerald insisted, didn't want any stray cells to have a chance...

 

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With everything squared away at the garage, Dean began chemotherapy the eighth day after surgery. Caught somewhere between depressed and horrified, he peered around the waiting room. People in all states waited--thinning hair, no hair, a man so thin his skin was nearly translucent, hats and handkerchiefs. Dean had done his best to do his usual--ignore until it went away--but he hadn't planned ahead for any of this. He fidgeted with the hem of his soft fleece sweatshirt, staring down at his lap before his gaze landed on a tank of just as sickly-looking fish swimming lazily in circles.

"Dean?" Castiel nudged him lightly, and Dean's head jerked around, eyes wide. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Dean hurried to mumble, even as Castiel's eyes narrowed at him. He waved noncommittally towards his own head as he stared back out at the other patients.

"Ah, you're concerned about your hair."

Dean scrubbed at one slightly steroid-puffy cheek, and Castiel blessedly didn't comment.

"They do cold caps now."

Dean's head jerked around. "What?"

"It's become more popular in recent years, and it doesn't work for people on stronger chemo, but these days, they use cold caps to help reduce hair loss. It's not perfect, but it might...help." Castiel winced.

Dean opened his mouth to reply when Dr. Fitzgerald's nurse, Bess Meyers, called his named softly, leading Dean and Castiel back to a room where rows of reclining medical chairs sat. She settled Dean in one, pulling the curtain around close and going over the whole process in the same quiet, calm voice.

"We'll get you a blanket if you'd like, but if you could remove your jacket for now, Mr. Winchester?" the blonde nurse asked with a gentle smile.

Dean peeled it off, folding up the red fabric and passing it off to Castiel where he sat beside Dean in a regular chair. Then with shaky hands, he folded his loose shirt sleeve up to where he was instructed, baring an arm for the process as the nurse continued to talk, although Dean's attention wavered in and out.

"....steroids can help with the lack of appetite...try foods that have no strong odors...use a straw...drink plenty...if it gets bad, we can try Zofran...numbness and tingling....breaking nails...headache...irritable or depressed, please let us know--"

Dean huffed. "Already both of those without help," he quipped humorlessly, and the nurse frowned but plowed on ahead.

"And last but not least, a common concern patients have is hair loss. This typically because chemotherapy causes overheating and shuts down hair follicles. There's little that can be done for the rest of your body, but for your head, we can try a cooling cap. It may help preserve your hair, as well as your eyebrows and eyelashes. Dr. Novak indicated this route might be of interest to you, so we brought the supplies necessary in the event that you--"

"Yes." Dean cut her off, glaring at his hands.

His head jerked up a moment later at the sound of tearing plastic, and he blanched at what he saw in her hands. "Is that...is that a panty liner??" he squawked indignantly.

"It's a cap liner. The edges of the cap chafe, and it gets worse as the chemo goes on and skin gets more fragile and prone to bruising and tearing. It looks silly, but it's a comfort precaution," Bess explained.

"You didn't tell me that before," Dean muttered to Castiel.

Castiel shrugged. "I didn't want to give you time to go hunting on the internet, like you did with the tree." Dean flushed with embarrassment. "It's to prevent harm, and even if it looks a bit odd, it works."

"Yeah, but it's like a....a feminine product," Dean whined. "That can't be a normal use!"

"Tampons are used in bullet wound to slow bleeding, Dean. They've saved lives."

"Panty liners aren't going to save my life, man," Dean grumbled.

"It will prevent abrasions that can get infected or be slow to heal while you're on chemo. Would you rather look stupid long-term or short-term?" Castiel replied sternly.

With no small amount of angry grunting, Dean finally conceded. "Short-term."

Bess smiled at Castiel. "You have an interesting bedside manner, Dr. Novak."

"You should see his in-bed manner," Dean said, wiggling his eyebrows and grinning, and Bess shook her head as Castiel snorted.

"Please ignore him. He makes raunchy jokes to distract himself," Castiel sighed, and Dean's focus on Castiel's reaction was enough time for Bess to slap one liner over one ear. Dean jumped with a yelp, turning to face Bess, only for her to slap one on the other side of his face with no warning.

"So cooperative all of a sudden, Dean!" Castiel jeered, and when Dean turned to scowl at him, Bess was back a moment later, fitting a piece of trimmed moleskin over his forehead.

"Hey!" Dean protested, even as Castiel took a flesh-colored nylon cap from Bess. "What is that?"

"Wig cap. To protect your hair. You put them over your hair before you put wigs on usually, but they work under the cool caps." He stretched it on over Dean's head, even as Dean glared at him "You'll thank me later."

Dean snorted, staring at the black cap Bess pulled on over his head now, a shiver running down his spine at the contact of cool gel as she velcroed it shut under his chin. "Well I feel stupid."

"You want a mirror?" Castiel asked with a wry smile.

"No!"

Dean tensed when Dr. Fitzgerald stepped into his area, only looking slightly startled. 

"What?" Dean demanded. 

"I expected your IV to be in by now, what's taking so long?" Dr. Fitzgerald asked, his brow scrunching in a confused vee.

"Dean's being a big baby about the liners," Castiel replied, and Dr. Fitzgerald nodded in understanding.

"I see." Dr. Fitzgerald waved for the nurse to continue, and she spread Dean's arm out, tying it off with a tourniquet and fussing with alcohol wipes and tubing before she slid the needle under his skin.

Dean hissed, grabbing at Castiel's hand tightly and squeezing his eyes shut as Castiel leaned in closer, murmuring quietly against his ear.

"Do you remember the day we met?" Castiel asked, and Dean cracked one eye open, one corner of his mouth quirking up.

"Of course I do. You had just moved to town, but it was a new school for both of us, and you looked just as lost as I did, man." Dean laughed. "And those senior creeps tried to corner you and--"

""--you hip checked one of them, slung your arm around the neck of the other one, and said, 'Oh, there you are. Are you getting lost already? We have to get to the library right away.' I was so damn confused as you dragged me off in a direction I knew the library wasn't!"

"But you let me!" Dean laughed.

"I was more worried about getting beat up by the seniors than the weirdo dragging me off to my potential doom!" Castiel chuckled. "And then you just stuck your hand out, and introduced yourself. And I was so, so very baffled and asked what you thought you were doing. I didn't get it until you told me that you knew those guys were up to no good and you'd just saved my pathetic ass! Which, I mean, I knew that. I just didn't understand why." Castiel sobered slightly, staring at Dean. "I still don't understand why."

Dean smiled back at him. "I had a feeling about you. That you'd be a big part of my life."

Castiel snorted in disbelief, and Dean waved the hand still folded around his. "No, no! I totally freaking knew! And I was right! You can't look me in the eye and tell me I was wrong after all of this, man!"

Castiel let out a long sigh, smiling indulgently. "No, you were right. You were absolutely right."

"So....what was the point of story time?"

"To distract you."

"From?"

This time, Castiel jostled their joined hands. "She's done."

Sure enough, the IV line was in place, and Dean had no memory of how it had ended up there beyond the first stick.

"Huh."

Bess smiled at the pair as she hung up a labeled bag of fluids stating BEP. "This is the mixture of medications," she said, tapping it. "We're going to get started, whenever you're ready."

Dean glanced at Castiel again, feeling wetness in his eyes as he hurriedly blinked against it. Castiel gave him one last tiny smile, a fragile thing.

"Will you keep talking to me, Cas?" Dean asked, hating how his voice wavered and how his best friend's eyes watered.

"Yes, Dean. Don't be afraid. I'll be right here, I promise."

Dean plastered on a brave and trembling smile as he nodded to the nurse. "Okay, I'm ready."

With a deft twitch of her hand, the drip started, and the medicine began to burn its way through Dean's veins.

"Do you remember the first time we hung out after school together?" Castiel's hand held tight to Dean's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The area I'm thinking of is a very real section of Arlington, MA, right over the line from Cambridge.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean didn't make a fuss after chemo was over. He didn't say a word as the cap was pulled away, the protective liners gently stripped. He was silent as Bess removed his IV.

He just stared at Castiel, focused on his face no matter what he was doing.

"How do you feel, Dean?"

When Dean didn't answer Castiel right away, his dark-haired friend brushed a hand against Dean's freckled cheek, and Dean started.

"Too warm. Tired. Not queasy or anything, though."

Bess patted his arm as she finished bandaging him up, and she smiled at him when he glanced her way. "Go home and rest, Mr. Winchester."

Castiel gave Dean a small, worried smile when Dean's eyes dragged back to him, and he offered his hands out to help Dean up. Dean swayed slightly into his space as he was pulled to his feet, and his lips quirked up. "Thanks for keeping me distracted, Cas."

"Any time, Dean."

 

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Dean had little recollection of how he made it from the hospital to the car--with a vague notion they'd swung by the bathroom on the way out--and only slightly more beyond that of how the car had made it home. Perhaps he'd get used to it over time, but the fuzzy feeling in his head was undeniable, like someone had wedged an enormous wad of cotton into every crack and crevice in his brain. And for how poorly he'd been sleeping on the steroids, he was sure there was no fixing that problem.

That proved wrong, though, when he woke to gentle hands sitting him up from the car door. One hand slid down along his waist, brushing against the stitches through his fleece pants, and air hissed through his teeth as he winced blearily. "At least buy me dinner first, Cas."

Castiel winced apologetically. "I'm sorry, Dean." His hands were under Dean's arms in a moment, grounding him. "Can you stand?"

Dean awkwardly scooted forward, every effort focused on keeping each stitch from pulling painfully. "Think so." With cautious straining, he pushed himself upright. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he sagged backwards, Castiel's arms the only thing keeping him from whacking his spine against Baby's exterior. His pulse pounded in his ears in a rush of anxiety and thankfully mild nausea, but he still sucked a breath in, holding it.

"...got you, Dean, I've got you, you're okay..." wormed its way into Dean's brain long moments later, and Dean slowly pushed the air out of his lungs, relaxing into Castiel's arms.

"Thanks, I...I've got it."

Dean refused to let Castiel crowd him as he dragged himself up the back steps from the driveway into the small vestibule and straight into the kitchen. Further to the steps from there, but closer to a chair, so Dean wasn't complaining as he sank down tiredly, staring at the antique imported tile on the wall.

"Are you hungry?"

Dean's head jerked up at the question, but he shook it minutely, his teeth working at his lower lip.

"Tired still?"

Dean nodded, and after a few beats, he pushed himself to his feet, only to stumble through the dining room into the living room. The tree lit up when he flipped the wall switch, along with the light on the ceiling fan, and Dean shifted carefully, easing down onto the couch.

Castiel followed him, Dean noted tiredly, and the other man sank to his knees before him, gently untying Dean's boots and guiding them off.

"Lie down and rest for now. I'll give you some tea and crackers in an hour or so."

Dean's eyes slipped shut, even before his feet were on the couch, even before Castiel was shoving a pillow under his head, even before the two of them wrestled the blanket off the back of the couch and over Dean's prone form.

 

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An hour came and went, and Dean woke to slender fingers carding through his hair. He whined, turning his face and burying it into warm flesh, eyes only cracking open when a soft chuckle sounded above his head.

"You're so needy."

"Fuck you," Dean spat back, but his head jerked up, listening for small footsteps. "Jude's not home yet?"

"Too early. Curse away, sailor. But for now, I'd like for you to try to eat something. We'll start light."

Dean slowly sat up, thankful when Castiel moved to fill the space and patiently bore Dean's weight against his side.

"Come on. Tea and crackers, like I said."

"I actually don't feel so bad right now," Dean mumbled, biting into one crumbling cracker.

But after two more bites, the color drained from Dean's face, and he gagged. Castiel was there in an instant with a plastic basin, rubbing Dean's back in soothing circles as Dean heaved up what small amount he'd eaten.

"I th--thought the nausea was s'pposed to be 'mild'!" Dean panted, missing the grimace plastered on Castiel's face.

"This is considered mild. It can be far, far worse than this." He passed the mug to Dean, urging him to take a sip, and Dean choked on the mixed flavor of vomit and ginger. "Keep taking tiny sips."

A hand pressed to Dean's forehead, smearing through the sweat dotting there.

"Dude, I'm fine," Dean bit out, jerking back and instantly regretting it as his stomach churned.

Castiel made the executive decision to move Dean upstairs after one bout of vomiting became two, then three, and a round of violent dry heaving.

When Andrea dropped Jude off, he made excuses to the woman, that Dean was feeling under the weather, and hurried Jude inside.

Although Castiel would periodically jog up the stairs to check on Dean--give him fluids, empty the basin, check his temperature--he kept Jude strictly separated. He got the boy to finish his homework, got him fed, bathed, and changed. Castiel would have been lying if he said he wasn't shocked at how well Jude was behaving, only whining twice because Dean wasn't able to check his homework or give him a bubble bath beard.

But Castiel's luck ran out as the time for a bedtime story and tucking Jude in rolled around.

"No! I want Daddy to read to me!"

Castiel sighed, rifling his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "Jude, Daddy isn't up to reading right now. He really needs to rest and--Jude!" Castiel reached for Jude as he darted out of his bedroom, "Guess How Much I Love You?" shoved under his arm as his bare feet slapped on the linoleum floor. He launched himself onto Dean's bed, Dean moaning as the mattress bounced.

"Daddy! I need a bedtime story!" Jude's eyes were stormy, small voice demanding, and Dean choked on bile in his throat.

"N-not tonight, sp--" Dean groaned as his gut twisted. "Fu--" Dean gasped. "Cas, bathroom. Now."

"Daddy, I need a story!" Jude tugged on Dean's arm as he curled them around his belly against the stabbing pain, the child whining as Castiel pried his small fingers free. Quickly, Castiel looped an arm around Dean's shoulders, pulling him to his feet even as Dean cried out, and he dragged Dean into the bathroom.

Dean unceremoniously shoved his sweatpants down, hissing as he landed on the toilet seat with more force than intended. Pain lanced up his tailbone, but it was nearly forgotten in the wake of a new wave of cramping in his stomach.

"Daddy!" Jude protested, even as Castiel slammed the door shut, leaving Dean some tiny semblance of privacy. But Jude tried to push Castiel aside, tears and snot streaming down his face. "I want--"

It was too much for Castiel, too, too much. "We all want things we can't have, Jude! Go to your room, or you won't get a story at all!"

Jude's little face screwed up tighter, turning redder as angry squeaking sobs escaped him. "You're not my Daddy! You can't tell me what to do!"

"Yes, well, Daddy can't take care of you right now, so you're stuck with me!"

With a hiccuped sob, Jude turned on his heel, bolting out of the bedroom. "I hate you!"

The blood drained from Castiel's face as Jude's door slammed behind him.

He'd never raised a child. Not like how Dean had cared for Sam. He had no younger siblings, no nieces or nephews. There was no way he was cut out for this; why did Dean ever think this was a good idea?

Castiel's head fell back against the door with a thunk, tuning out the sounds of Dean gagging and moaning behind the door as he slid down to the floor in defeat. What the hell had he signed up for? He knew it wasn't going to be easy, but this...this was beyond anything he'd expected. Jude was usually so easy-going and such a good kid.

And Dr. Fitzgerald had assured them this level of reaction was unlikely on this kind of chemo. So was this normal? Was this--

A clatter and a crash followed by a thump behind the bathroom door drew Castiel's attention, and he scrambled back to his feet, charging in without even the courtesy of knocking.

"Dude, no--don't--" Dean protested weakly from where he lay on the floor, legs tangled up in his sweatpants.

"Do you need a hand?" Castiel asked, reaching for Dean, only to flinch when he was swatted away.

"No." Dean tried to twist into a better position, turning his head only just in time to heave into the toilet. His stomach ached, muscles trembling in protest. "This--" Dean coughed, spitting, "--this can't be--something's--" He turned, squinting up at Castiel as he swayed, clutching at the toilet seat before he slumped over sideways.

Castiel winced, stepping over him, and perched on the edge of the bath tub, touching his hand to Dean's forehead. "You're burning up. Something's off, Dean. I'm going to call Dr. Fitzgerald."

"'m sure it's nothin', Cas. Just grab me a...a blanket..."

"You're half naked. Pull your pants up and then we'll talk."

Dean's eyes slid down his exposed lower half before dragging back up to Castiel's face as he fought against the fabric wound around his legs, tugging ineffectively. "Y' gonna stand there staring like a creep or y' gonna help?"

Castiel braced Dean, dragging him back up onto the toilet seat from under his arms and eternally thankful for the respite, however brief. Getting Dean cleaned up, however, was another problem altogether, but one Castiel tackled with careful efficiency.

But efficiency only went so far. Between one moment and the next, Castiel would have Dean nearly straightened out, and then Dean would moan again and heave into the basin Castiel settled hurriedly in his lap.

The hours stretched, and as midnight drew closer, Castiel's concerns only grew.

Dean leaned his heated forehead against the cool granite countertop of the sink by the toilet, barely engaging in much beyond one word answers, hardly stomaching any of the small sips of fluid Castiel tried to force on him.

"'m sorry," Dean murmured, shortly past one in the morning, and Castiel peered up blearily from his position on the floor by the door, knees drawn up and curled in on himself.

"Dean, you don't have to--"

"'m so sorry, Anna. I didn't know. I didn't understand how bad it is. I can't do anything right, can't take care of Jude or anything."

Castiel pushed himself onto his knees, crawling closer and taking in Dean's glassy eyes, faraway gaze, and incessant mumbling. As his eyes dragged downward, they landed on Dean's throat, and he leaned forward. His fingers dragged across the skin, landed on Dean's pulse tapping away frantically. Far too fast to be safe.

Castiel frowned and shifted his hand down to cover the back of Dean's hand with a light squeeze before pinching the surface of the skin. No reaction came from Dean, and equally concerning, the skin didn't snap back like it should have.

Dehydration. No surprise there.

Castiel climbed up to his feet, moving to leave to bathroom, when Dean gave a choked cry.

"No, don't leave! I--I'm sorry, Anna, I'm sorry, I should have been honest. I should have told you the truth! I know you would have been mad at first, but I know you would have understood eventually!"

Castiel bit his lower lip and blinked away wetness stinging his eyes. "I'll be right back, Dean," he tried to soothe. "I'm going to grab the cordless and be right back."

He had failed. He had failed when Dean and Jude both needed him most. Despite his claims that he could handle this on his own, the fact was, he couldn't. He needed help.

Dean nodded weakly. "Please don't...please tell Cas I'm sorry."

"I know you are, my friend." Castiel refrained from reaching out to cup a hand against Dean's flushed cheek. After all, he was the one who should be apologizing.

When he returned with the phone, Dean was bent over nearly in half, shivering, and Castiel kneeled beside him as he dialed the phone. He winced at the sleepy voice answering.

"Dean?" Benny groaned tiredly from the other end. "You have any idea what time it is?"

"It's Castiel, Benny. Dean is...he's become quite ill and he--" Castiel cut off, drawing a deep breath and steadying himself. "I need to get him to the hospital. I would appreciate it very much if you or Andrea could come pick Jude up for me."

Sheets rustled over the line, Andrea's voice murmuring quietly in the background, and Benny gruffly replied, "It's Dean. Chief's pretty sick. You mind if I go get Jude and bring him over?" Andrea replied before Benny said to Castiel, "I'll be over in a few minutes."

"Thank you."

As soon as he'd hung up, he switched to 911, carefully shifting a delirious Dean to lie on the floor on his side, wrestling his unfortunate pants back up to his waist.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I have a white male, age 35. Cancer patient, but he's only been through one round of a treatment that is typically not problematic. However, he is experiencing vomiting and diarrhea. He is severely dehydrated, pulse is thready, and he's feverish with hallucinations. He is conscious at the moment."

"Location?"

"42 Henderson Street, in Arlington."

"They're on the way."

Castiel hurried downstairs to unlock the front door before rushing back to Dean's side, waiting until the paramedics arrived. The moment they had Dean situated, he promised to meet them at the hospital

As they shut the back of the ambulance, he made his way back up to Jude's room to pack his bag. But he stopped short when his foot hit something on the floor, sending it sliding. He bent to pick it up--the book--and flipped it to peer down at the two rabbits on the cover.

Jude just wanted his daddy. He wanted his daddy, and he had yelled at the boy.

He reached for Jude's bag, ignoring it when Jude stirred in his face down position.

"Unca' Cas? What's going on?"

Castiel stepped towards the small dresser, pulling out tiny pairs of underwear and socks first.

"Daddy is very sick right now, so Uncle Benny is picking you up. You're going to stay with him and Aunt Andrea and their girls for a few days."

Jude hitched a sob, flinging himself at Castiel's leg and latching on tight. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Unca' Cas! Please don't make me go!"

Castiel turned, prying the hysterical child loose.

"I'm sorry! I don't hate you! I love you, Unca' Cas! I'm sorry!"

Castiel hesitated before sinking down to his knees and pulling Jude in tight. "I'm not mad, sweetheart, I'm not. I'm sorry for yelling at you, and I love you, too. I--" Air caught in his lungs and he choked. "I have to take care of you and Daddy. But Daddy needs special help and I need to be there for him. So I need your help, too."

Jude blinked teary eyes up at Castiel. "My help?"

Castiel nodded. "I need you to be good for Uncle Benny and Aunt Andrea. If I don't have to worry about you, I can do a better job of making sure Daddy gets better. Okay?"

Jude nodded quickly, a few more tears streaking down his face. "I'll be good, I promise."

"Okay, good." Castiel pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head. "Pick out a couple of toys to take with you." Castiel quickly shoved some shirts and pants in, and after a moment, he tucked in the book, too.

Not surprisingly, Jude was clinging to his Batman bear as well as a large-eyed toy of a redheaded woman, one that Castiel wasn't at all familiar with.

"Who's that?"

Jude held it up for Castiel's inspection. "Black Widow. Aunt Charlie gave her to me. She has red hair like Aunt Charlie and Mommy and she kicks butt! But don't tell Daddy, Aunt Charlie says Daddy thinks D.C. is way better than Marvel."

"I think she's great," Castiel replied as the doorbell rang, and Castiel crowded him downstairs, grabbing his toothbrush, cup, comb, and favorite rubber duck from the bathroom on the way.

Castiel smiled gratefully at Benny when he stepped inside.

"You look like you could use a hug, brother," the Cajun rumbled, tugging the doctor in, and Castiel leaned in, holding tight and breathing in the smell of motor oil and spice.

"Me too, me too!" Jude cried, and Benny swept him up into a bear hug, growling.

"I appreciate this so much, Benny."

"No problem. How's Dean doing?"

Castiel winced. "The ambulance already came and went. I was waiting for you. I'm going to meet them there as soon as..."

Benny's eyes narrowed and he nodded. "Right, right. Just lemme grab the squirt's bag and we'll get out of your hair."

The moment after Jude was settled in, Castiel pressed another kiss to his hair and rushed off toward Boston.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should probably note that this chapter was influenced by the experiences of several individuals, but most noticeably, my own mother.


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel stormed into the ER of the hospital in Boston, one of the nurses looking up in surprise as he slid his coat from his arms.

"Nurse Rosen," he said stiffly to the young woman, and she blinked and jolted back to herself in surprise. 

"Dr. Novak, you're not on the schedule tonight!"

Castiel shook his head. "I'm not here for a shift, I called a patient in, Dean Winchester. Where is he?"

"Dr. Novak?"

"Where is he, nurse? I am the one making his medical decisions at current; I've gotten his most pressing concerns squared away, I need an update on his status."

Nurse Rosen nodded quickly, rushing to a computer to search. "He's upstairs on the fourth floor, but they--Dr. Novak!"

Castiel didn't bother to wait, rushing for the stairs and pounding his way up into the nurses station. "Winchester, where is he?"

The nurse on duty, one Sarah Blake, frowned as she rose to meet him, and as she opened her mouth, he cut her off.

"I have power of attorney over Mr. Winchester in the event he is incapacitated, Nurse Blake, and it has been a long night of vomiting and diarrhea, so if you could be so kind as to simply cut to the chase?"

Her mouth snapped shut and she squinted at him, her eyes glancing down at his sweaty and soiled clothing. "Room 408. The doctor on the floor right now is Dr. Wisdom."

Castiel nodded his thanks, turning away and making his way down the hall, pushing into the room without knocking. The dark-skinned doctor looked up from his clipboard with a sneer. "Castiel."

"Uriel," Castiel replied stiffly, glancing past him to where Dean lay on the bed, squirming and moaning, and he pushed by when Dean rocked upright with an anguished cry and gagged again, clutching his belly. Castiel glared at the bloody mess made of the IV line on the back of his hand, and when Dean itched at it, Castiel pushed his hand away. "What's the prognosis of my patient?"

Uriel's brows shot up his dark forehead. "Your patient."

"I'm family, as far as you're concerned, Uriel." Castiel barely glanced up, pushing a tray under Dean's chin as he drooled almost neon bile.

"And as far as the director is concerned?" Uriel asked, tone verging on a threat that never came.

"Family. What is his status?"

"Unstable. Prognosis and diagnosis are unknown, testing is being done on samples now."

"Have you prescribed anything to counteract the vomiting and diarrhea? Anything to ease his dehydration?"

"IV fluids. His electrolytes are fine, but we've started him on Zofran to prevent further issue."

Castiel frowned at Dean as his friend's head rolled onto his shoulder, his heart clenching in sympathy as Dean whined and choked again.

"Doesn't seem like it's enough, he's still reflexively gagging."

"We'll reevaluate in an hour," Uriel snipped, and Castiel resisted the urge to flip the bird at the asshole's retreating back as he stormed out of Dean's room. No doctor liked to be questioned, shocking as it was, but Uriel's pride was a problem for the hospital. It made Castiel sick to know he had any charge over Dean's health tonight.

 

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As the night progressed, Dean steadily grew worse, his head limp against Castiel's hands whenever he lifted him to throw up into the basin, and Castiel sighed, exhausted.

Hours passed. Minutes crawled by. Seconds dragged their proverbial heels.

"Come on, Dean. You've got to fight. You've got to fight for Jude. He needs you. And you...you have to live so you can divorce me, remember?" Castiel laughed weakly. "Don't want to stay in this marriage, right?"

Dean grunted, his head rolling to the side as he stared at Castiel with heavy-lidded and glazed eyes, and Castiel reached out to gently wipe his chin. "Mmmno...'d rather die married to ya, Cas...than live apart....love you, ya know? More than anyone 'cept Jude or Sammy..."

Castiel's breath hitched as tears formed in the corners of his eyes. Delirium, what a bitch it was. But still, he humored Dean, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Dean's feverish brow as the clock switched over to seven o'clock. Despite the long night, that moment alone was a blessed event--shift change, halle-freaking-lujah. That meant Uriel Wisdom was supposed to go home, and hopefully his replacement would be a fair piece better than that asshole.

But life could never be easy for Dean Winchester as his heart rate skipped a beat, and then another as it began to race, an alarm blaring as it worsened and his oxygen began to drop precipitously along with his blood pressure.

"Shit!" Castiel swore, and he leaped to his feet as Dean's eyes rolled back in his head, the other man's mouth falling open in a choked gasp as his body twitched violently.

"NURSE!" Castiel could hear himself screaming as he flattened the bed and ripped down the front of Dean's gown, immediately beginning chest compressions. Not this, not now, during a shift change was perhaps the worst time possible for an emergency! Castiel felt a warm body at his back, hands grabbing his shoulders, and he blinked wetness from his eyes--when had that started?-- to find himself staring up at a friendly and familiar face, Dr. Balthazar Roche. At Balthazar's heels was an emergency technician Castiel recognized as Kevin Tran.

"Cassie, what's going on?" Balthazar demanded as Kevin pulled in a crash cart while a nurse blared an alert over the PA system.

"He's been sick all night, Wisdom only prescribed him small doses of Zofran so his electrolytes are probably screwed to hell. He's been confused, but his heart just switched into atrial fibrillation."

Balthazar nodded as he, Kevin, and the new nurses on duty quickly made their way to Dean's bedside, and Balthazar pushed medication into his IV in hopes of resetting his heart rhythm. One nurse immediately brushed Castiel aside to begin chest compressions herself, and Castiel choked back a cry when nothing came of it, watching helplessly.

But Balthazar and his team worked quickly, the defibrillator switched on with a whine as it charged, and with a swift order the nurse stepped back and Kevin stepped in, placing the paddles with practiced precision.

"CLEAR!" Balthazar called, and everyone else jumped back as the defibrillator thumped out its discharge, Dean's back arching from the bed. The monitor continued to beep the alarm, Dean's heart still racing and skipping, and Balthazar swore quietly.

"Charging, Dr. Roche," Kevin said, and Balthazar nodded, waiting until the machine beeped at him. He grabbed the paddles.

"CLEAR!" came the next alert, and again everyone leaped away as Kevin pressed the paddles down again, discharging the shock into Dean's body.

Castiel stared at Dean from his corner of the room, quietly praying. "You said you love me, Dean. You said...if that's true, then live. Live so we can work this out."

All other noise fell away, Castiel watching distantly as Balthazar cried for a third charge, and his eyes glazed over as Dean's back bent almost painfully under the shock. Castiel hiccuped, smearing a hand under his running nose, and then everything faded into a quiet, steady beeping. The entire room seemed to exhale in relief.

Once Dean was deemed stable, Balthazar dismissed the rest of the team to their duties, turning to face Castiel.

"So." Balthazar's eyes bored into Castiel.

Castiel pulled a couple of tissues from the box perched on the table by Dean's bed, swiping at his face. 

"So," he replied stuffily, blowing his nose.

"Care to tell me what's going on here?"

Castiel shrugged slightly. "It went south unexpectedly fast, and Uriel has a stick up his ass."

Balthazar's humorless snort filled the room before things lapsed into a brief silence again. "Well, his test results are in. Not a surprise, his white count is low. What is a bit more of a surprise is that he has a norovirus. Where'd you manage to pick that up?"

"We were at his home or here at the hospital all day," Castiel replied, and grimaced when he glanced up. "He used the bathroom outside of the infusion center. If that's where he picked it up, he might not be the only patient with this issue."

"Well, we've doubled his dose of Zofran, and we'll get him on more IV fluids. He was in pretty rough shape by the time he got here, Cassie, and he hasn't improved." Balthazar glanced down at his paperwork, his eyes widening. "Oh, shit. He was never listed as neutropenic."

"Oh, no kidding!" Castiel bit out sarcastically, waving at the basin filled with dregs of vomit. "Was this why Uriel refused to increase his anti-emetics? He could have killed him like that!"

Balthazar winced, staring down at the paperwork in his hand. "Do you want to open an inquiry?"

The question made him pause--it was, after all, a serious question. An important question.

But pursuing an inquiry against Uriel now, while Dean was ill and Jude needed care?

"I don't have the time to worry about it now, but it is tempting." Castiel sighed, his weariness wearing on him, and rubbed a hand down his face. He watched as Dean relaxed in his sleep while the additional medication kicked in, finally taking care of his nausea, before glancing back at Balthazar with a pained expression. "I have too much else to worry about."

"Like hiding the fact that Dean is your husband?"

Castiel's head jerked up in shock, eyes rounded in surprise. Balthazar's expression was one caught between hurt and anger.

"Why aren't you telling people, Cassie?" Balthazar finally spoke after a few long moments of silence.

"How--?"

"Pamela Barnes. As your  _closest_ friend, aside from lover boy here, she was certain that at least I knew the details. Imagine our mutual surprise." Balthazar frowned at him. "And disappointment."

Castiel scowled and turned away. "It hasn't exactly been the happiest of circumstances, Balthazar."

"No, cancer never is." Balthazar paused, glancing at Dean as he shifted with a low groan. "I hope, at the very least, you two will have a chance for happiness. You've been in love with him for a long time."

Castiel ducked his head, hiding the flush on his cheeks as well as his unwillingness to tell his friend the truth. Dean may have said he loved him, but Castiel would have to face reality. Dean was sick and confused. Nothing he said could be taken at face value. He grimaced at the thought.

Balthazar didn't miss it though, and he reached over, patting him on the shoulder sympathetically. "I'll...have a nurse bring in a cot for you, and a pair of clean scrubs. You try to clean up a bit and get a little rest while Sleeping Beauty is still snoozing."

 

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It wasn't until the next day that Dean's eyes opened again, and he tried to sit up a hair too quickly, groaning as the room swam. "Wha--? Where am I? Jude--?"

"Shh," Castiel reached forward to hush him gently, easing Dean back down onto the bed. "Jude's been staying with Benny and Andrea. You've been in the hospital."

Dean groaned again, leaning his head back against the pillow, hissing as he brushed his fingers against a tender spot up his collarbone and down on his side. "Dude, I feel like I got punched."

"You were sick. It caused a lot of problems."

Dean peeked open one eye, watching as Castiel shrugged, not looking up at him.

"Problems."

Castiel nodded. 

"Like...?"

"You were dehydrated and you were suffering from an electrolyte imbalance." One corner of Castiel's mouth quirked up sadly. "You were very confused and mumbling a lot of nonsense."

Dean let loose a loud moan, rubbing his hands over his face. "Shit. Did I say anything embarrassing?"

Guilt stabbed at Castiel's gut. Of course Dean didn't remember.

"Cas?"

Castiel drew in a sharp breath, pasting on a bright smile as he turned to face Dean. "Yes?"

"You look like shit, man."

"Yes, well, you're one to talk. At least you slept!"

Dean snorted, shaking his head. "So did I? You know, say anything weird?"

Castiel decided, in true Dean fashion, to make the best of the situation as a real smirk ticked up one corner of his mouth. "Oh yes, absolutely." 

Dean made a distressed noise, and Castiel laughed.

"You professed your undying love to me!"

"Shut up!" Dean squawked, grabbing for the tissue box and lobbing it at Castiel. He missed by a long shot, squinting blearily. "What the hell?"

Castiel's grin widened, and he leaned in closer. "Nope, you told me you love me, and I'm going to tell everyone how you went on and on about how I'm the love of your life! How, except for Jude and Sam, there's no one you love more!"

"Asshole!" Dean shot back, shoving a hand into Castiel's face. "I take it all back, I hate you!"

And even though Castiel felt his heart crack at Dean's denial, the smile creeping around the edges of Dean's mouth was enough for him to keep his own smile firmly in place as he lied his way through his own heart breaking.

Dean didn't love him like that. Of course not. They were friends, nothing more.

But that didn't keep it from hurting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neutropenic: Someone with low white counts. A neutropenic patient should not be given fresh fruits or vegetables and should not be around fresh flowers, gardening, or around anyone who is even remotely ill.
> 
> Dehydration can cause all sorts of bizarre side effects, including irregular heart rate and severe confusion. I spent Christmas Eve 2009 watching my mother make this terrifying spiral due to medical malpractice before my father's bullying and the new doctor post-shift change realized the fuck-up.
> 
> If you have a critically ill family member, PLEASE pay attention, be their advocate, speak up for them, and keep their information organized. Someone ill and hospitalized will NOT be able to tell a doctor everything.


	11. Chapter 11

Castiel glared at Dean's ass as he leaned over his dresser, digging for socks and boxers.

"Dean, you should be resting."

Dean sighed, the sound of the deeply put upon. "Christmas is in a couple of days, Cas. I'll rest then. I need to go in today."

"Remind me which of us is the doctor?"

Dean glared over his shoulder at Castiel. "I promise to not do any heavy lifting. I just need to make sure inventory is up-to-date and I want to make sure paychecks get out in time."

"You just came home from the hospital yesterday, Dean. At least call Sam today. He'll worry if you don't let him know how things are going with your treatment."

Dean straightened, twisting to focus the full force of his scowl on his friend and husband. "I'm going to work. My body is betraying me, Cas, I need to keep busy on the good days so I don't wallow! You're here to help, not keep me from living my life when I can! Y-you're my husband for all the wrong reasons, but--"

Castiel bared his teeth on a furious snarl. He had to bring that up. "When this is over, I want a divorce." Why he'd ever allowed himself to entertain thoughts of more than friendship was beyond him.

Dean recoiled, face pale and looking like he'd been slapped. "B-but...the official said to fight for this..." he croaked weakly, and Castiel scoffed, shaking his head roughly. Delusional. Both of them.

"It's not real, Dean! It was never real! You don't love me!"

Dean flirted with him. Castiel teased back. But in the end, Dean was straight and Castiel was lying to the world.

"Cas!"

Castiel shot to his feet, storming down the stairs and grabbing his jacket and keys on the way out the door. 

He tried not to cry when Dean didn't come after him.

 

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Dean had worked himself into one hell of a foul mood by the time he'd made it into work, crashing and banging around the storeroom while he worked. His employees had the good sense to leave him to it, at least.

Until lunch, when Charlie stuck her head in and wrinkled her nose at him. "Okay, what crawled up your ass and died, boss-man?"

"I don't know what you mean." Dean sniffed haughtily and turned back to the box he was unpacking.

"Don't pull that on me, Dean. You're acting like a little bitch."

Dean shrugged. "'s nothing. Cas and I had it out with each other this morning, that's all."

He could feel Charlie frowning at the back of his head. "You two never fight."

"First time for everything."

"I'm serious. What's going on? Is this because you were in the hospital?"

A sigh escaped Dean in a rush. "Something like that."

"He cares about you. He's probably worried."

Dean frowned at the bumper clip in his hand. "Yeah, he seemed real worried when he stormed out."

"He probably left so he wouldn't punch your stupid face. Did you go after him?"

Dean's silence said it all.

"Text him an apology."

Dean's head jerked up. "What!? Why should I apologize?"

Charlie's eyes narrowed. "Because inevitably your stupidity and emotional constipation contributed. Be an adult and take the first step. Cas is your best friend, and he puts up with way too much shit from you."

Dean grumbled, but eventually he dug out his phone and tapped out a message.

**Dean (12:13 pm): I'm sorry. Can we talk later?**

Dean obsessively checked his phone for a reply every few minutes for over an hour until Benny came back to drag him out to take a look at a failing transmission. And the distraction it was meant to be worked. Just like that, Dean was back to puttering under hoods alongside his friends and feeling better than he had in days. He felt vindicated in his decision to come in to work, despite his guilt over the way he and Castiel had parted that morning.

He took a break almost two hours later after finishing a simple oil change, and he rose up to his full height. Moments later, black was spotting the edges of his vision, the room swimming dangerously. Between one blink and the next, he was on the floor, shoulder aching where it'd struck concrete.

"Dean! Dean!" Victor rolled him to his back, bracing his neck gently, and Dean squinted up at his worried face.

"Hey, what happened, chief?" Benny crouched by his head, checking for blood as Victor wrestled off the constricting flannel he was wearing. Already a deep bruise was forming, purple-black and painful. But hands went still and voices went quiet as hands brushed over his arms.

"Dean, what's this?" Charlie's fingers prodded bruising around the inside of his elbow.

"IV."

"Your IV was in the back of your hand, dummy. What's this one?" Charlie scowled at him when he opened his eyes.

"Also an IV."

"The one from your surgery is a lot more faded than this, man," Victor cut in. "What's going on? If you don't tell us, you know we'll get Bobby to pry it out of Cas."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, pulling his arms free to rub at his face roughly. He was still on his back, wincing at the cold, hard flooring under his prone form.

"I was in the hospital because I got sick from complications. It wasn't just surgery, either...I'm on chemo, too."

"Like....for cancer?" Dean cracked open an eye to find Cole standing awkwardly on the periphery, watching.

Dean huffed out a breath. "Yeah. For cancer." He groaned, sitting up slowly and leaning against Benny while he waited for his vision to clear again.

Stunned silence reigned over the garage until Charlie finally piped up, "Why didn't you tell us?"

Dean hitched up one shoulder in an approximation of a half-shrug. "I felt bad enough interrupting Cas' life." He jumped when Charlie swatted his arm with a glare.

"We're your friends, you idiot. No wonder Cas is pissed with your stupid face."

Dean's eyes dropped automatically to his pocket where his cell phone lay. 

"I already called him, the moment you collapsed. He's on his way." Bobby grumbled at him, frowning from beneath the brim of his hat.

A few minutes of fussing later, Castiel came charging into the garage, eyes wild as he peered around for Dean. 

"Over here." Charlie waved a hand, and Castiel jogged closer, crouching down to check Dean's eyes and press a hand against his forehead, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Cas--"

"Don't start. I'm very angry with you right now," Castiel snapped, voice a rough growl as he gingerly probed at the bruise forming on Dean's shoulder and arm.

Dean reached up, grabbing Castiel's hand to fold between his own. His focus was so intent on the other man, though, that he missed Charlie's sharp little inhale as she stared down at their hands.

"I'm sorry."

Victor blinked and opened his mouth to make a sharp barb at Dean, but Charlie elbowed him and he fell silent with a grunt.

Castiel was still frowning, but at least he was listening now.

"I didn't listen and I was a jerk. I'm sorry. And I'm not used to other people taking care of me or not being able to do shit. But you--you're my best friend, man. You matter to me, a lot. So, we gotta work things out."

"Figure out boundaries?" Castiel replied.

Dean nodded, a small smile quirking the corner of his mouth. Pulling the big guns, the ones that never failed with Castiel in all the years they'd known each other, he tilted his chin down and breathed out a tiny, "Please?"

Castiel's resolve to stay angry crumbled instantly. "That's a low blow."

"It's an effective blow. Please?"

With one last irritated scowl, Castiel sighed. "Fine. Fine, I give up, you assbutt. But you're going home. Now."

Dean didn't dare complain.


	12. Chapter 12

They'd barely made it home, Castiel dutifully half-dragging, half-carrying Dean up the stairs to his bedroom in silent defiance to his protests, when Dean's cell phone started ringing. Dean missed it on the first round when Castiel threw his sweats and t-shirt at him, demanding he change his clothes and go back to bed, so it was no surprise when the cell phone immediately began to ring again. Dean reached for it, and Castiel scowled, snatching it out of his reach and stepping into the hall. "Get changed!"  
  
He glanced down at the screen, finding "Bitch" lighting it up, and he rolled his eyes as he swiped right to answer. "Hello, Sam."  
  
"Cas? Is that you? What the hell is going on, man?" Charlie called me, all freaked out, said Dean collapsed at work. When I said I didn't even now he was sick, she got all quiet on me and said I should call Dean, and you're picking up his phone." Sam's voice sounded fragile, a glass figurine teetering on the edge of falling and shattering apart.  
  
Castiel's lips flattened into a thin, angry line as he pulled the phone away from his ear, glaring at it and then at the door behind which Dean was changing for a moment.  
  
"Cas?" Sam's voice was quiet and tinny, and Castiel pressed the button to switch to speakerphone.  
  
"Yes, I'm here, Sam. Charlie was correct; you should speak to Dean." He pushed open the door, not even bothering to knock. Dean yelped, pulling his sweats up quickly and swaying dangerously in the process. Castiel rolled his eyes, placing his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "Dean, I have seen you naked before."  
  
"That was different!" Dean replied, affronted. "Who's on the phone?" He raised a brow at the look Castiel was leveling him, hovering somewhere between anger and confusion. "Cas?"  
  
"It's Sam. Charlie called him to let him know what happened and apparently he didn't even know you're sick." Dean's eyes shot up to meet Castiel's. "You told me you called him. Did you lie to me?"  
  
Dean's eyes flared wide, and he shook his head, short, jerky motions of denial. "No! No, I did call him!"  
  
"Then why--?"  
  
Dean's eyes dropped as he stepped closer, his hands closing over Castiel's as he slid the cell phone from his grasp, staring at the screen counting the passing seconds and minutes.  
  
"Dean?" Sam's voice flooded over the line, and Dean's shoulders quivered for a moment he squared them and stared back up at Castiel.  
  
"Jess is--when I--when I called to tell Sam, he told me that--"  
  
"Jess is pregnant," Sam filled in, masking his confusion well. Castiel's eyes lowered to the phone.  
  
"Congratulations, Sam. But Dean, that doesn't explain why you didn't tell him."  
  
"Because we've had so much lousy shit happen in our lives, Cas! Because Sam deserves to have something good without me wrecking it for him! He deserved to be happy for once. I couldn't fuck that up for him." Dean's fingers clenched briefly around the phone.  
  
"Dean--" Sam started, but Castiel cut him off, lip curling in a snarl.  
  
"Dean, you are one of the most infuriating people I've ever met sometimes. Our happiness does not matter more than your health and troubles. You are important to us, all of us. You don't think you deserve to be saved, Dean, but you do. You do, and not just because of Jude, or me, or Sam. You deserve it because you're you, and it's high time you get that through that thick skull of yours. Now I'm going downstairs, I'm going to pull something together for you to eat, and you're going to talk to your brother. Capisci?"  
  
Dean nodded quickly, watching Castiel turn on his heel and listening as he stomped his way down the long flight of stairs.  
  
He was jolted out of his daze when Sam sighed over the speaker. "You really are an idiot, Dean. I'm pissed at you for not telling me."  
  
"I was trying to protect you, Sam."  
  
"I'm not a child anymore, Dean. You don't have to protect me. You have to talk to me. So, please...tell me what's going on."  
  
Dean fell silent, moving across the room and shifting to lie down on his bed with the phone in his lap as he scrambled to gather his thoughts. Sam let him, understanding his brother's need for time, but nothing prepared Sam for the moment when Dean started talk again.  
  
"I have cancer."  
  
The words felt like being blindsided by a truck, tears pricking at Sam's eyes instantly. He couldn't move, even when Jess came breezing in for Sam's lunch break. The smile on her face immediately slipped away at the stunned expression on Sam's face.  
  
"Sam? What is it?" Jess asked, concern etching her features as she laid a hand on his arm.  
  
Sam blew out a slow breath, grabbing his legal scratchpad and scribbling down a note, and Jess' mouth fell open when she read the words scrawled in black ink.  
  
"Sammy?" Dean's voice sounded over the line, cracking and unsure. Jess blinked down at the phone, mouth setting in a firm line as she nodded.  
  
"We're going."  
  
Sam finally nodded as well, drawing a deep breath. "Jess and I are getting a flight out there as soon as we can."  
  
"Sam," Dean sighed, "you don't have to do that. Cas is convinced I'll be fine. You've got work to do and a baby to get ready for."  
  
"What I've got," Sam replied with a huff of irritation, "is a stubborn dumbass for an older brother. What are you doing about Jude? What would happen to him if you weren't fine?"  
  
"Cas is great with him, Sam. And Andrea and Benny have been a huge help lately, too."  
  
"Yeah, but Dean, they're not family. Jess and I are family."  
  
Dean drew in a sharp breath. Like hell! "Of course they're family! Cas is family. You know as well as I do that Bobby always says that family don't end with blood."   
  
"Dean, that's not what I meant."  
  
"And I--no offense, Sam, I think you'll be a great dad, but Jude barely knows you. He's grown up around the garage folks, and around Cas. And Cas is--" Dean stumbled to a halt for a brief moment, and between one breath and another, the entire story poured out of him--the diagnosis, Castiel's adoption of Jude, their marriage, all of it.  
  
Silence reigned. Dean wasn't even sure if he could hear the sounds of breathing until he heard a voice murmur in the background and Sam drew in a gasp of air.  
  
"You...you MARRIED Cas?"  
  
"Well, yeah. He's my best friend. I trust him, Sammy."  
  
"Dean, do you....can you even...oh my god, Dean. I'm so mad at you right now, you don't even get how stupid you are!" Sam sputtered, and Dean frowned down at the phone.  
  
"Look, I knew you were going to think it was a stupid idea. That's why I didn't tell you, okay?"  
  
"No, Dean! It's not okay! It's not--I'm breaking a promise here, okay? But Cas, he loves you!"  
  
Dean's brow scrunched together, confused. "Uh, yeah. I know. I love him, too."  
  
Sam let out a frustrated sound somewhere between a growl and a shout. "No, you idiot! HE'S IN LOVE WITH YOU!"  
  
Dean's head jerked up at the sound of a gasp and a scuffle by his bedroom door to find Castiel standing there, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. The phone slid from Dean's grasp onto the mattress as Dean clambered to his feet, and Castiel quickly dropped the plate and glass in his hands on the dresser. He raised them in a defensive gesture as his mouth fell open with another intake of air.  
  
"Dean." Tears glittered in Castiel's reddening eyes, and he stumbled back a step when Dean stepped towards him to maintain the distance. A vice squeezed around Dean's heart. Was Castiel afraid Dean would hurt him? "Dean, please."  
  
"Is it true?"  
  
Castiel panted out a few heaving breaths, dangerously close to sobs, before he finally nodded. One tear spilled over, sliding down his cheek and dripping from his chin. "Yes," he whispered hoarsely. "Yes, it's true. I...I never told anyone except Gabriel, and Sam figured it out on his own. He was always a bright child, after all. I never meant to lie to you, or to hurt you, but I'm gay, Dean."  
  
"How long?"  
  
Castiel stared at Dean in wide-eyed confusion as another tear threatened to fall. "What?"  
  
"How long have you been in love with me?"   
  
"Since....since high school. Dean, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" He backed away another step as Dean tried once more to close the distance between them, and Dean's face fell.  
  
"Me, too."  
  
"We can get the marriage annulled," Castiel promised weakly, voice cracking over the last word. Dean's head whipped up, eyes wide and frightened, and he crossed the room in three long strides. Castiel backed away, choking out a sob as he raised his arms again to protect himself, and the sound twisted into a shocked cry as Dean's hands latched onto his wrists.  
  
"No! No, Cas, I mean I love you, too! Since--" Dean cut off with a soft laugh, "--God, since the moment I met you. When I told you I didn't think I'd fall in love again, it was because I've always been in love with you!"  
  
"I thought you didn't do chick flick moments." Sam's voice over the speakerphone fractured the moment, and Dean and Castiel both glanced towards the phone lying on the bed. "Although I can't say I'm sorry I told your secret now, Cas."  
  
"Shut up, bitch," Dean laughed, breathless as he walked away from Castiel to pick up the phone.  
  
"Jerk. Jess and I are still coming out there. No's not an acceptable answer. Just....get your shit together, okay?"  
  
Dean huffed a soft laugh, quirking a half smile. "Alright, fine. We'll see you when you get here." He jabbed the red phone icon to end the call, and turned back to Castiel to find him crowding in close with the drink and plate.  
  
"Lie back down, Dean."  
  
"Only if you stay with me."  
  
Castiel smiled faintly, and after Dean settled back down, he laid down beside him, watching as Dean picked up the toast on his plate and bit off a corner. Dean chewed thoughtfully for a moment, staring at Castiel the whole time until he began to squirm slightly under Dean's gaze.  
  
"Now I understand why you find it so discomfiting."  
  
Dean's face split into a grin as he burst out laughing, but the laughter faded a moment later, his eyes darkening with sudden sadness. "We wasted so much time."  
  
"You wouldn't have Jude."  
  
Dean nodded, nibbling off another bite of toast. He swallowed, taking a sip of water from the glass Castiel passed him. "I love Jude. I don't regret him, believe me. I just regret what it took to get here." He frowned faintly, staring down at the plate in his lap. "What I don't understand is, why did you marry Meg if you're gay?"  
  
"You remember my father, Dean." Castiel fidgeted with the corner of the pillow he was lying against. A glance upward found Dean watching him now, one brow raised as he messily bit off another bite of toast.  
  
"Yeah? But he hated Meg. She was on drugs, man."  
  
"But she was at least a woman. And she and I were once friends." Castiel shrugged, turning his attention back to a loose thread  on the corner of the pillowcase. "As much as he griped that I married a heathen and a sinner, at least it held the promise of grandchildren for him to corrupt."  
  
"If you slept with her, yeah," Dean mumbled, shoving a massive bite into his mouth with renewed vigor.  
  
Castiel wrinkled his nose at the mere suggestion. "What do you think led to her infidelity, Dean? The few attempts we made were laughable at best."  
  
Dean gasped in surprise, inhaling crumbs and coughing out a choked noise, and Castiel held the glass of water out to him, waiting as he took sips and his shoulders shook through fits and bursts of coughs. "What??" Dean finally managed to choke out, and Castiel raised a brow at him.  
  
"You don't have room to talk, Dean. You slept with Anna. There's visible proof of that, unless Jude isn't...?"  
  
"No!" Dean devolved into another fit before clearing his throat. "No, Jude's definitely my son." Dean winced, but he sighed a moment later, the tension leaving him as he sagged back against the pillow propped against the headboard. "I went home and cried the day you told me you were marrying her. But I guess that explains why Sam thought I was joking."  
  
Castiel finally looked up again, expression crumpling at the heartbreak on Dean's face. "I'm so sorry, Dean. I never meant to hurt you that way." He reached for Dean's hand, and Dean flipped his over to thread their fingers together. "I wanted to make Richard angry, and to get him to leave me alone about finding a wife in the same blow. And at the time, I was too scared to risk out friendship to tell you. I was too afraid of it getting back to my father." Castiel closed his eyes, swallowing hard, and Dean squeezed his hand. "I was terrified of being disowned. And now I want nothing more than to be able to go back and tell him the truth."  
  
Dean squeezed his hand again. "You know, I loved Anna. Don't get me wrong. But I wasn't in love with her. I thought I'd learn to be in love with her. I thought I was doing what was best for me, trying to move on from someone I thought I'd never have." He hazarded a quick glance over at Castiel as he rubbed his free hand over his mouth. "I'd been working up the courage to ask for a divorce, Cas. But then the diagnosis came through and I just couldn't. I couldn't be the asshole who left his sick wife in the lurch, no matter how much we'd been fighting."  
  
Castiel's eyes popped open, concern and confusion taking over his face. "You never told me you were fighting."  
  
"Marriage 101, don't complain about your spouse to your friends, man." Dean shrugged one shoulder. "Our sex life had dropped to nothing while she was pregnant with Jude, and afterward, I couldn't be bothered. I didn't want to be bothered. She kept on making accusations, that I thought she was fat from the baby weight, that I was cheating on her, all kinds of shit."  
  
"But you stayed."  
  
"And then it didn't matter anymore, when I put her six feet under." Dean's hand under Castiel's began to tremble faintly, and Castiel squeezed back, tight as he dared. Dean's voice cracked. "And now Anna won't ever have the chance to find someone who loves her as much as she loves them and it's all my fault."  
  
"You married her for the wrong reason, but you planned on setting her free and took care of her until the end. You did the right thing." Castiel shook his hand slightly, and Dean's eyes met his as he blinked back wetness. "You deserve to be saved, Dean. I told you."  
  
A faint, wobbly smile spread across Dean's lips, and swiped hurriedly at his cheek. "Hey, Cas?"  
  
"Yes, Dean?"  
  
"Can I kiss you?"  
  
Castiel's responding grin was brilliant as he leaned in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! This chapter, in my opinion, is the most important chapter. Also longer than I've done in a while, so woot woot!
> 
> We're back online, baby!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, okay, I know I picked a scary topic here, but I just want to promise that while I plan to scare you and break your heart, nothing makes me not even open a fic faster than major character death. Dean will not die, I promise.


End file.
